The Door In The Mountain Side
by littlelindentree
Summary: This is an AU which takes place four years after 4x13 "Thanksgiving." Tim is an ex-convict and Julie is a college graduate, and both of them now know that in this life, there are no guarantees.
1. Chapter 1

_And the Piper advanced and the children followed,_

_And when all were in to the very last,_

_The door in the mountain side shut fast._

_Did I say all? No; one was lame,_

_And could not dance the whole of the way;_

_And in after years, if you would blame_

_His sadness, he was used to say –_

_"It's dull in our town since my playmates left!_

_I can't forget that I'm bereft_

_Of all the pleasant sights they see,_

_Which the Piper also promised me."_

Robert Browning, _The Pied Piper of Hamelin_

Tim stared up at the living room ceiling. He couldn't sleep. Everyone in the house had gone to bed hours ago, but the house itself was alive with noise. Tim had never noticed before what a creaky old house it really was. The pipes groaned and the air conditioner shuddered, the same second-hand unit Tim helped install the summer he turned 14.

He blinked, rubbing a hand over his tired face. It would be nice just to sleep; it had been a long day.

Tim had been paroled from prison that morning. Billy drove two hours to get him in Colorado City. Tim would have felt bad about it, but Billy had been driving there and back once a week for the last four years to visit him, so he was used to it.

"You wanna drive home?" Billy asked once they were outside, holding up the keys, Tim's old number 33 keychain jangling in his hand.

"No thanks," Tim replied, looking out at the busy, rain-dampened highway.

They drove in silence, Billy occasionally breaking it to tell Tim again how excited Stevie and Kaitlyn, his nephew and niece, were for his arrival.

"They bugged Mindy to help them make a cake and everything," Billy said, smiling. "It's just out of a box and all, but still."

"That's real sweet," Tim replied, watching the fields pass by his window. He tapped the fingers of one hand against his thigh. "Mind if I smoke?"

Billy shot him a sidelong glance. "It's your truck, do what you want. Since when do you smoke?"

"Everyone smokes," Tim replied, digging into his jacket for his cigarettes with one hand while rolling the window down with the other.

Billy cleared his throat. "So, you got rules you gotta follow, since they paroled you?"

"Yep." He lit his cigarette and inhaled, resting his arm on the window frame.

"Like what?"

"Curfew, find a job, that kinda thing."

"You know you've always got a job at Riggins' Rigs, right?"

"I know." Tim squinted out at a field of corn. It was pretty tall already, for April.

"You gotta check in with a parole officer, anything like that?"

"Yeah, I gotta head over to the sheriff's department tomorrow and check in and get some info from them about my parole officer."

Billy nodded, but said nothing more.

Tim smiled faintly at the blue and gold_ WELCOME TO DILLON_ sign that greeted them when they passed into the town. Everything was the same: Fran's Hamburgers, the Alamo Freeze, Applebee's, Garrity Motors, the churches, the High Plains Mall where he took Becky to buy her pageant dress. Billy turned onto their street, and they passed a bungalow with a bright red and white _EAST DILLON LIONS _sign in the front. The quarterback lived right in their neighbourhood.

Billy pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. Tim glanced up at the house. It looked the same, too, except they'd repainted it, and Billy actually seemed to be mowing the lawn now and then. The flowerbed under the front window had been cleaned up and was filled with shrubs and flowers.

"Hey, listen," Billy said, "we told the kids you were in the army this whole time. Didn't wanna freak 'em out with the whole jail thing, you know?"

Tim nodded.

"Try to smile for them and stuff, okay? They're real excited to see you."

"I will, Billy."

The front door opened and Mindy appeared with Stevie and Kaitlyn. Stevie, at four, was tall for his age, his head already above his mother's hip. He was skinny, but solid, and had an unruly mop of dark blond hair on his head. Kaitlyn, at three, could almost have been his doppelganger except that she was shorter and chubbier, and was wearing a bright pink bikini and sunglasses. Mindy looked exactly the same as the day Tim said goodbye to them at the courthouse, except now she was pregnant with baby number three. She shaded her eyes with one hand and waved with the other.

"There's Daddy and Uncle Timmy, babies. Go say hi!"

Tim got out of the truck as Stevie and Kaitlyn came tumbling down the lawn, shouting excitedly. Skeeter, his little dog, came bounding out of the house behind them.

"Uncle Timmy!" Stevie shouted, launching himself at Tim's legs. He held Tim tightly, as though he had any real idea who he was. Kaitlyn came along more slowly behind him, looking up at Tim somewhat dubiously.

"Hey," he greeted them. Tentatively, he ruffled Stevie's hair. He bent down as Skeeter came trotting up, patting the small dog's ribs.

"Hi," Kaitlyn said softly, pushing her sunglasses up onto her dark blonde head to reveal hazel eyes like his own, like his mother's.

"Hey, honey." She smiled shyly, turning around to look up at her mother, who had come down from the house.

"Can Uncle Timmy sleep in my room?" Kaitlyn asked.

"_Our_ room," Stevie corrected her, rolling his brown eyes at Tim.

"Uncle Timmy's sleeping on the couch," Billy said, sounding aggravated. "Just 'til we figure something out. Who wants pizza?"

"Me!" shouted Stevie, tearing off towards the house. His family followed him, and Tim turned to lift his duffle bag out of the truck bed. He saw their old neighbour, Mr. Sanders, watering his lawn and watching them from across the street. Tim raised an arm in greeting, but Mr. Sanders turned away, and went back into his house.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a blur. Tim sat back, feeling a little overwhelmed by Billy's busy little family. He did his best to smile, though, when Mindy brought out the cake they had made for him. It said _WELCOME HOME UNCLE TIM _in pink frosting left over from Kaitlyn's birthday, and it was decorated with a small plastic toy tank which Stevie reclaimed as soon as the cake was on the table.

Tim sighed and turned over on the couch, staring into the darkness of the empty living room. The couch wasn't very comfortable, but it was a two bedroom house – there wasn't anywhere else for him to sleep. With another baby on the way, the place was packed to the rafters. He'd have to get his own place eventually, but for now, he didn't have much choice except to stay.

Anyway, the couch wasn't any worse than the thin bunk on which he'd slept for the last few years.

He sat up and rubbed his face again. He stood and walked across the room, stopping at the front door. He stared at it for a moment, then reached out a hand and unlatched the deadbolt. His hand shook, but he grabbed the knob and turned it, opening the door.

Tim stepped forward and stood on the threshold in his t-shirt and boxers, breathing the fresh air of the still evening. There was no sound but the distant drone of traffic up on the highway.

Tim exhaled a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding in.

He went back into the house, closing and locking the door behind him.

* * *

It had been nearly four years since Julie had seen, talked to, or thought about Tim Riggins.

He had never been much more than a blip on her teenage radar, their paths crossing only occasionally even in such a small a place as Dillon. She'd heard about him getting arrested for something to do with stolen cars in her senior year, but by that time she was preoccupied with Matt and college and Habitat, and was more than happy to leave Dillon gossip behind her. Tyra had mentioned him once or twice in their interstate phone conversations, but it hadn't mattered much to Julie at the time.

She graduated with honours from UC Berkeley with a bachelor's degree in American Literature. She watched as her classmates applied to grad schools, moving on to bigger and better schools. She applied to several herself, thinking about pursuing journalism. In particular, she wanted to get into the program at Berkeley. Aside from it being an excellent program, Nate (extremely serious "He's The One!" boyfriend number two) had been accepted. They planned to get an apartment together, and a cat, and a potted fern, and some furniture from IKEA.

Julie was rejected from every grad school but one, which waitlisted her. It wasn't even UC Berkeley, but Nate suggested that she stay in town anyway and get a job, and maybe she could get in the following year.

That was the moment Julie realised that she had no desire to get a job at Starbucks and spend the year watching Nate work on his thesis. She wasn't even sure she wanted to sit through more classes, or write more papers, or deal with more school. Nate, as it turned out, was surprisingly and upsettingly okay with this.

Julie drove home to Dillon on her own, dragging four years' worth of books, papers, projects, and mementos behind her in a rented U-Haul. Her roommate made her a goodbye mix CD on which Joni Mitchell was featured heavily, and she found herself singing tearfully along as she drove through the New Mexico desert, convinced that no one on earth could ever possibly understand her heartache the way Joni did.

"Joni Mitchell?" her mother asked with some surprise, peering at the CD case she found under the driver's seat. Tami offered to help Julie clean out her car upon her homecoming, filled as it was with empty drink containers and fast food wrappers, her vegetarianism briefly abandoned in a haze of angst and self-pity.

"Schuyler was a big fan," Julie explained with a little shrug, wiping the dusty dashboard with a wet rag. She wrinkled her nose at the grime that came off. How did the insides of cars get so dirty?

"Well, Schuyler's got good taste."

When her mother mentioned casually over dinner a few nights later that she had run into Mindy Riggins at the supermarket, and that Tim had been paroled and was back in Dillon, it took Julie several beats to bring herself up to speed.

"I mean, Mindy said that Billy's real excited that he's out, but I just don't know," Tami said, shaking her head in dismay. "What on earth is that boy going to do with himself now? I hate to say it, but he didn't even have much of a shot before he was an ex-convict."

"Wait, hold on," Julie said, holding a forkful of salad in mid-air. "Tim Riggins actually went to_ prison_?"

"Yeah, he did. Didn't Tyra ever mention it?" Tami asked.

"Maybe. I guess we didn't talk about Dillon gossip much." Julie looked over at her father, but he was staring fixedly at the table, his jaw clenched.

"Nothing you could have done, honey," Tami said softly, placing a hand over her husband's.

"Yeah," he replied simply, taking a swig of his beer.

"What's an ex-convict?" Gracie Belle asked, spearing a green bean on her fork. She looked expectantly at both of her parents, then at her big sister.

"It's someone who was in jail, but now they're out," Julie said, before her mother could say anything. Glancing up, she saw the look her mother was giving her, and shrugged.

"Jail?" Gracie repeated, sounding appalled. She looked to her mother for confirmation. "They let the bad guys _out of jail_?"

Tami shot Julie another dirty look, but Julie simply mouthed, _you brought it up_, and poked listlessly at her salad.

"No, sweetie. They keep the bad guys in jail. But sometimes people go to jail because they just made a mistake."

"Oh," Gracie said, looking down at her plate. She didn't seem terribly reassured.

"How's the job search going, sweetie?" Tami asked Julie, an edge in her voice.

"It's going all right," Julie replied. "There aren't many temp positions in Dillon, apparently."

"Well, I don't think it would hurt you to be a little less particular, and see about getting something with the county or maybe one of the schools. Your father and I could put in a good word for you."

"Yeah, I just don't want to get anything too permanent, you know? I still haven't heard back from TMU." In a moment of panic upon her return to the tiny fishbowl of her hometown, Julie had applied to a handful of grad schools in Texas, for various programs she was not sure she actually wanted to study. So far, no one was biting, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

Her parents didn't even try to hide the concerned look they shared across the table, and Julie didn't try to hide her resentment over it.

Nobody really said much for the rest of the meal.

* * *

Tim shifted uncomfortably, the hard plastic chair he was sitting on digging into his back. He was in the reception area of the Carr County Sheriff's office, waiting for his name to be called. Tim glanced up at the plain white clock on the wall. It was just past noon, and he was still a free man. More or less.

He shuffled his feet. After two months in the Carr County Jail and just under four years in Horace State Prison, he didn't mind a little leisurely loitering.

"Timothy Riggins?" called one of the deputies. Tim stood and walked over to the counter.

"Here," said the deputy, handing him a card. "That's your parole officer. You've got a meeting with him this afternoon, 1 PM. If you're not gonna be able to make it, you need to tell me right now so I can notify him. Otherwise, if you don't show, he can have a warrant issued for your arrest for breaching the conditions of your release. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Tim replied, peering down at the card. _Robert Parkins – Parole Officer. Dillon, Texas._ His office was just down the way, in the same complex as the police station.

"You can go. Don't miss that appointment, now."

"Thanks," Tim said, pocketing the card. The deputy had already turned away.

Tim left the office, walking down a long corridor until he found a building directory. He scanned it until he found the office he needed. When he arrived at the place he figured he was supposed to be, he hesitated outside the door. He was early. Was he allowed to be early?

He entered the small, dark wood-panelled office. The receptionist at the desk looked up and cradled the phone in her shoulder, gesturing at him to come over to the desk. She finished her conversation and hung up.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

"I've got an appointment with uh, Robert Parkins at 1 PM. I'm kinda early, though."

"That's okay," the receptionist said, picking up the telephone again. "Just have a seat and Mr. Parkins will see you as soon as he can."

Tim turned and sat on one of the three chairs lined up outside the door. The cork bulletin board on the wall was covered in posters about literacy and gangs. It reminded him of Mrs. Taylor's office back at Dillon High.

He sat down with his head against one of the posters, and waited.

About twenty minutes later, the door next to him opened, and a man exited, leaving the office without a word. A second man stood in the doorway, hands on his hips.

Tim figured he was around his dad's age, with short, dirty blond hair slowly turning grey. His face was weathered, which made him seem older than perhaps he really was. He wore a plaid button down shirt, jeans, and an ugly old sports coat. Thick, black-rimmed glasses gave him an incongruous, mild-mannered appearance.

"You Timothy Riggins?" he asked, looking down at him. His voice was low and tired, and Tim had to strain to hear him.

"Yes, sir," Tim replied, standing up.

"Come on in," the man said, going back into the office and sitting down. Tim followed him. The office was tiny and cramped, the shelves of books and files which lined the walls overpowering the small room, which also contained a battered desk, and an old brown couch. "My name's Robert Parkins, which you probably got from the card, and I'm your parole officer."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Parkins, sir," Tim said, sticking out a hand.

The man raised an eyebrow at Tim. "You can just call me Rob," he said, turning back to the papers on his desk. "Have a seat."

Tim sat down on the ragged brown couch and waited.

"I see from your records here that you received some vocational training at Horace – automotive and horticultural?" Rob said, leafing through the thin manila file on his desk. Tim could see his name printed along its edge.

"Yes, sir."

"Those are good programs. You realise, though, that one of the conditions of your release is that you're not permitted to be employed in any automotive field until the end of your probation period?"

Tim stared at the man. Rob stared back, and cleared his throat. "Did you read your parole contract, or did someone read it to you?" he asked.

Uncomfortably, Tim shrugged. "They just told me to sign it, so I signed it."

"Okay," Rob said, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Your parole contract outlines the terms of your release, to which you are agreeing when you sign it. You have to follow everything in that contract. Failure to do so could result in a warrant being issued for your arrest, and then you'll have to return to prison to serve out the remainder of your original sentence, plus extra time for breach of probation."

"So what, I can't go near cars or they'll put me back in prison?"

"You can own and operate your own vehicle, you just can't have anything to do with the operation of a garage," Rob said. He flipped through Tim's file again. "I see your brother owned the garage out of which you ran your chop shop. He still have that place?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well, you can't work there or be there for any reason other than to have your vehicle serviced, and you need to let me know if that's happening."

Tim nodded, looking down at his lap. Billy wasn't going to like that; they had both planned on Tim going back to work at the shop.

"So that brings us to the subject of employment. You need to find a place to live and a means of self-support. Do you plan to continue living with your brother?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay. If you change your address, you need to notify me. How about work? Any thoughts on that?"

"To be honest, I was gonna go work with my brother, but I guess that's out."

"Yes, that's out," Rob said. "At least for now. I'm going to give you a list of places to try to find some work, and I want to see you back here in a few days to report on your progress. No fooling around; you need to find a job."

"Yes, sir," Tim replied. Rob pulled a photocopied package of papers from Tim's file, as well as a list of addresses.

"Try these places first and if that's a wash, we'll go back to the drawing board. That there's a copy of your parole contract, outlining all the conditions of your release. I suggest you familiarise yourself with it."

"Yes, sir," Tim said again, looking down at the papers in his hands.

"Any questions?"

Tim had dozens, but he didn't think they were the kind a parole officer could answer for you.

"No, sir," he replied.

"Okay. Hold onto my card and call me any time. You get in trouble with the law, you make sure you call me. All right? Tell whoever's waiting they can come in, and make a standing appointment with Jenny before you leave."

"Thanks," Tim said, standing up.

"No problem. Shut the door on your way out," Rob replied merely, turning back to his desk and scribbling some notes on Tim's file. Tim stood awkwardly for a moment, waiting, and then turned and let himself out of the office.

He wasn't sure what he was waiting for.

* * *

Julie didn't know when or how exactly she'd signed on to be the designated family errand runner, but until she found a job, that seemed to be her fate. It was May, so both of her parents were still working, and they were more than happy to unload the dry cleaning and groceries and trips to the post office on her.

On this particular blistering hot Tuesday, Julie found herself pulling into the parking lot of the Alamo Freeze to pick up dinner for the recently reinstituted Taylor Tuesdays, while her mom finished up at the high school and her dad picked Gracie up from daycare.

Parking her car, she climbed out into the blazing sun, trying to remember what everyone wanted. Four years away had left her a bit rusty, but she still remembered how her mom liked her spicy chicken sandwiches. It was all coming back to her.

She stopped short in the midst of her thoughts when she spotted Tim Riggins on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, his elbows on his knees, cupping a cigarette in one hand and sitting in the shade of the building.

Julie almost didn't recognize him at first. He had always been in impossibly good shape, but he used to have a softness about him which was absent now. He was still muscular, but he was wiry, his tall frame lean and his arms roped with veins. He was scruffy, too; his dark hair was as lank and unkempt as always, but he was no longer clean-shaven. His face was peppered with stubble, and his hair hung in his eyes.

She hesitated for a moment, but realised that she'd been standing there staring at him for several beats, and saying hello would be slightly less weird than saying nothing at all.

"Hey," she said, stepping forward. "Tim?"

He turned his head and blinked up at her, as though trying to place her. If he didn't remember her, she was going to be so embarrassed.

"Jules," he said, nodding.

"Yeah, long time no see."

"Yep," he replied, looking away and taking a drag from his cigarette.

Julie glanced at the familiar old black Silverado which sat a few feet in front of him, its hood up and its engine billowing steam. "What are you up to?"

"Waiting for my truck to cool down," he replied. "You?"

"Just picking up some dinner," she said, gesturing at the restaurant and taking a step closer. "I just got home from college last week."

"Yeah? Where'd you end up going?" Tim asked.

"UC Berkeley."

"Nice," he said. He sounded about as enthused as Julie felt these days. She had the sudden urge to sit down next to him and rib him, like she had when he'd stayed with them back in high school. Except teasing him about rally girls doing his homework seemed significantly less amusing now than it had back then.

"Yeah," she mumbled, scuffing a shoe against the pavement. "It was good, but I didn't get accepted to the graduate program there, so... Here I am."

"You workin'?" he asked, stubbing out his cigarette and standing up. He leaned against the hot grill of the truck, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her.

"Nothing so far, but I'm looking."

"Yeah, me too."

Julie nodded. She wanted to tell him she was sorry about what had happened, but it seemed strange. Were you supposed to treat a stint in prison the same way you'd treat a death?

In the end, she decided it was better to say nothing at all.

"Well," she sighed, "I'd better get going. Can't keep my dad waiting on his dinner; heads will roll."

Tim nodded. "Good luck with the job search."

"Yeah, you too. See you around?"

"See you 'round."

Julie turned to head into the Alamo Freeze, but Tim's voice stopped her.

"Hey, Jules?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you... Would you tell Coach I said hey?"

Julie regarded him, at the weary tension in his body as he stood there with his hands on his hips, a hesitant expression on his face. "Sure," she replied softly. "Yeah, of course."

"Thanks," he mumbled, nodding once, quickly. He turned and closed the hood of his truck firmly before climbing in. The engine started with a noisy rumble and he pulled out of the parking lot, heading east.

Julie stood in the open doorway of the Alamo Freeze and watched the truck disappear, until the pimply teenage cashier in his white paper hat told her to either come in or leave, because they sure as hell weren't paying to cool the great outdoors.

Giving her head a firm shake, Julie went inside.

* * *

Tim wrote the address at Midland College from memory, printing it as neatly as he could on the back of a post card with a cartoon armadillo on its front.

**_Becky:_**

**_I'm out. You can send me mail at Billy's, but I'm going to try to get an email address one of these days and catch up with the rest of the world. You'll be the first to know when I do._**

**_Talk to you soon. Hope everything's good._**

**_Tim_**

Tim placed the stamp carefully in the top corner and walked out of the drug store, dropping the card into the faded blue mailbox outside. It closed with a rusty creak, and he climbed into his truck, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking space.

He and Becky became dedicated correspondents after he went to prison, her mother forbidding Becky from actually visiting him. She didn't like them writing to each other much, either, but it was only a couple years before Becky graduated from high school, got a scholarship to Midland College, and moved to the dorms, anyway.

The reliability of Becky's weekly letters was a real comfort. She told him what was happening in town and how school was going, about pageants and proms and singing the anthem at every Lions game. They stirred in him a mixture of nostalgia and agonizing homesickness, but all the same they were a welcome distraction. He had needed distraction and escapism more than anything, and Becky's cheery, newsy letters were a bright spot in that dark place. Between those and Billy's visits and phone calls, Tim got by.

She would be home from college any day now, and Tim was looking forward to seeing her. It was as much a surprise to him as anyone, but Becky had become his most loyal friend. She was like the sister he never had and never knew he might want.

He had called Lyla a handful of times in the first few months, but she never answered or returned his calls. He didn't hold it against her – he wouldn't have known what to say to him, either. He heard through the grapevine that she was still in Nashville, studying law at Vanderbilt. Everyone in town spoke of Lyla with pride, and Tim was glad that he had done at least one thing right: telling her it was okay to leave him behind.

Jason's silence was worse. He sent one letter, and it was short and angry. Tim knew Jason had written it in frustration, but it hurt anyway. Maybe it was his turn to be the one left in a strange place, with a new life he didn't expect or want, and have his best friend disappear. Tim figured he had that one coming.

Tim pulled onto his street and turned up into the driveway. Tiredly, he parked and got out. He'd been spending every day since he met with his parole officer pounding the pavement, looking for a job. Turned out there weren't too many places interested in ex-cons with no real work experience.

Tim let himself into the house and enjoyed for a moment the unusual silence. The kids were at daycare, Billy was at the garage, and Mindy was at work. She'd begun working as the receptionist at Garrity Motors a couple years earlier when things got serious between her mom and Mr. Garrity. They were married now, living in a little bungalow in the south end of town.

Dropping his keys on the counter, Tim went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. As he cracked it open, he glanced up and saw the light on the cordless phone flashing, indicating that there was a message. He picked it up and dialled, punching in the password ("boobs" – Billy had chosen it) and listening. There was one new message.

"Hey, this is John from The Golden Horseshoe, for uh, Tim, was it? Just calling about the resume you dropped off the other day. How soon can you start? Is Monday okay? Call me back. 555-2104."

Tim slammed his beer down on the counter, causing a spray of foamy head to fly up and spatter against the cupboards. Frowning, he hung up on the electronic voicemail lady asking him whether he'd like to delete the message, and quickly dialled the number of the restaurant. A girl picked up, and he asked to speak to John, waiting anxiously as she fetched him.

Their conversation was brief: they had a position as a dishwasher open. It paid minimum wage and the hours were crap, but the restaurant participated in a program where they were rewarded with financial incentives by the state for hiring ex-cons, so they were interested.

Tim wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He accepted readily and said he'd start as soon as they needed him.

After hanging up the phone, he retrieved his beer and took a long, hard swig. Then he smiled, and picked up the phone again.

At least he'd have some good news to tell his parole officer. It was a start.

* * *

**_Dear Ms. Taylor,_**

**_Thank you for your recent application to Texas Methodist University. We received a high volume of applications this year, making the selection of new students to the graduate program a challenge. I regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you a place in the incoming class at this time._**

**_I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavours._**

**_Regards,_**

**_Brenda Staub_**

**_Director of Admissions_**

**_Texas Methodist University_**

Julie folded the letter neatly and returned it to the envelope in which it had come. Standing next to her desk, she opened a drawer and retrieved her small stack of rejection letters. She placed this most recent one on the top and returned them to the drawer.

She stood in the middle of her bedroom and sighed deeply, trying to remember why she hadn't wanted to attend grad school, why she hadn't wanted to stay in Berkeley with Nate, why she hadn't just waited a year and see if they'd take her then.

Right now, she couldn't recall what had drawn her away from California and back to Texas. The only thing which sprang bleakly to mind was her and Tyra's old theory that Dillon was a black hole whose pull was impossible to resist.

Sighing again, Julie left her bedroom and trudged to the kitchen. She was in the midst of rummaging through the fridge for a drink when she heard her mom come in the front door.

"Hey honey," Tami called, rounding the corner with a couple bags of groceries in hand. "Mind giving me a hand? It's so nice having you around again."

"Sure," Julie replied, taking the bags and starting to unpack them on the counter.

"Any luck on the job front today?"

"Nope. I did get a very nice rejection letter from TMU, though, so that's something."

Tami tilted her head sympathetically and frowned. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

"It's okay," Julie said softly, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know if I even wanted to go there, to be honest. I guess it's not meant to be."

"Maybe not right now. But there's no rule saying you can't go to grad school next year, or the year after that, or the year after that. You can work for a while and see where life takes you. Nothing wrong with that, hon."

"Yeah," Julie said, turning away to shelve a box of spaghetti. She could see the reason in what her mother was saying, she just couldn't totally accept it. Not yet, anyway. Somewhat detached, she recognized that she simply wasn't done feeling sorry for herself yet.

"You wanna chop some peppers for me? Your dad wants to grill burgers tonight, but I figure we should at least try to get a salad in there," Tami said with a fond roll of her eyes. Julie knew it hadn't really been a request, so she grabbed a green and red pepper from the fridge, and began chopping. "Guess who I ran into at the supermarket?"

"Who?" Julie asked, picking the seeds and ribs out of one pepper and hoping she sounded interested.

"Corrina Williams."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I sure did. And you know what she told me?"

"What?"

"She told me they're looking for a receptionist at the clinic."

Julie paused in her chopping and looked up to see the expectant, pleased look on her mother's face. "Oh?"

"She did, and she was real interested to know that you're looking for a job."

Julie looked back down, continuing to chop. Working reception at the women's clinic? She'd never pictured herself doing anything having to do with medicine. Not that any of the things she _had_ pictured herself doing seemed like viable options at the moment.

"That's not... Being a receptionist wasn't really what I'd hoped to be doing," Julie muttered. "I want to do something that_ matters_, mom. Something important."

"Well, you know that saying, Jules: think globally, act locally. Maybe the best place for you to start doing some good is right here at home. And there's nothing wrong with starting at the bottom of a good organization. You never know where that'll take you."

Julie chewed her lip thoughtfully, glancing back up at her mother. "What would I have to do, answer phones and stuff?"

"Sure. I'm guessing you'd have to manage the waiting room, make appointments, probably do some filing and record-keeping, maybe some light accounting, that sort of thing," Tami paused. "Mrs. Williams tells me the position has been vacant for a while, and they've been looking for someone smart and organized to come along."

Julie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, considering this. Everyone had to start somewhere, right?

"Okay," Julie replied, nodding. "I'll call her."

Tami grinned. "Great! That's just great!"

Her mother turned away to start preparing burgers for the grill. Julie reached for a tomato and methodically began chopping it into bite-size pieces.

Everyone had to start somewhere.

* * *

Tim was having a nightmare.

He knew that's what it was, even as he struggled in the midst of it. There were walls and bars and bright lights, and he couldn't see the whole sky. Worse, he was surrounded by strangers. Strangers who had their own special laws, laws Tim didn't understand. It was like they didn't even speak the same language.

The walls closed in, and he was smothered by them, by the people trapped inside like he was, and with a gasp he woke himself up.

He blinked up at the living room ceiling, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings, of his pounding heart and the sweat-soaked t-shirt clinging damply to his skin. He exhaled a shaky breath, jolting in surprise when the phone rang.

Standing and stumbling a little, he found the cordless phone on the kitchen counter and saw it was Billy calling from the garage. Glancing at the microwave to check the time, noon, he hit the "talk" button with his thumb.

"Billy," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Did I wake you up?"

"No," Tim replied, rubbing his eyes blearily. The fear was starting to melt away as the real world came into focus. "What's up?"

"Can you pick Stevie and Katie up from daycare this afternoon? Mindy has to work late."

"Sure, what time?"

"Four-thirty."

"Yeah, no problem. I don't work 'til six, anyway."

"Thanks, little brother. You're a lifesaver. You'll have to go to the dealership and pick up Mindy's car, though – she has the car seats."

"Got it," Tim replied.

Billy paused, and Tim could hear the sounds of Billy's two employees laughing and working in the background. "You okay?" Billy asked softly.

"I'm fine," he lied. It wasn't the first lie he'd told for Billy's sake, and he doubted it would be the last.

Another anxious pause, and then Billy cleared his throat. "All right. Four-thirty. You'll remember, right?"

"I'll remember. When's Mindy gonna be home?"

"She said she'd be home before six."

"Okay, 'cause I gotta work at six."

"I know, Tim. It's okay. She'll be there," Billy sighed. "I gotta go, all right?"

"All right. Later, Billy."

"Later, Timmy. Thanks."

"No worries."

They both hung up, and Tim put the phone back on the counter. He looked around the room and scratched his head. He had a few hours before he had to go pick up the kids, and he didn't need to check to know there wasn't much on TV.

Pulling his sweaty shirt over his head, he walked back to the couch and lay down, turning his face away from the bright afternoon sunlight filtering in the front window.

* * *

Tim had made the vehicle switch with Mindy in plenty of time, but she shooed him out the doors of Garrity Motors anyway, scolding him to hurry up and get to the daycare, because if he left those kids waiting, she was going to kill him.

Tim walked up the shaded sidewalk to the front entrance of the daycare, hoping it would be obvious where he was supposed to find his niece and nephew. He stopped short at the doors as they were opened from the inside.

"Excuse us – oh, hey Tim," said a voice. Julie was standing in the doorway, holding her not-so-little sister's hand. She was dressed differently than usual, although Tim couldn't say how exactly, or even what usual was for her. In a cream-coloured skirt, strappy sandals, and a striped top that hugged her curves without revealing too much, Tim couldn't help but think that she looked more grown up, a lot like her mom.

"Hey Jules," he said, looking up to find her watching him somewhat quizzically. He cleared his throat, hoping she hadn't caught him checking her out. "Gracie Belle," he added, nodding at the little girl currently tugging fitfully at her older sister's grip.

"It's _Grace_," the seven-year-old stated emphatically, dropping Julie's hand and crossing her arms over her thin chest.

"Be nice, Gracie," Julie said softly. She shot Tim an apologetic look. "She's a little bit dramatic sometimes."

"That's okay," Tim replied, smiling down at the little blonde girl, who stood sulking as they discussed her.

"Any luck on the job hunt?" Julie asked.

"Yeah, actually. I got a job at that buffet up on Washington Avenue, The Golden Horseshoe? It's just washing dishes, but it's something, at least."

Julie frowned, staring at him. "Wait, I'm confused. Can't you just go work for Billy?"

"Terms of my parole – I can't have anything to do with cars or garages or anything. It kinda sucks, 'cause I got certified while I was inside. But washing dishes isn't too bad."

"Yeah," Julie replied, sounding sceptical.

"How about you?"

"Oh! I had an interview this afternoon, actually," she said, glancing ruefully down at herself. "That's why I'm dressed like this. It's my 'you can take me seriously, honest,' outfit."

"It's nice. You look real good," Tim replied, before he could think better of it. At her surprised smile, he cleared his throat. "I better go get those two. Hope you get that job, Jules."

"Thanks, Tim," she said, smiling at him again and taking Gracie's hand in hers. "See you around." The two Taylor girls turned and headed down the sidewalk, stopping at Julie's blue Aveo, which was parked on the street. Tim watched as she opened the back door, helping Gracie into the car.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he opened the door and went into the daycare.


	2. Chapter 2

_You'll know you've done enough when every bone is sore,_  
_you'll know you've prayed enough when you don't ask any more._  
_You'll know you're coming to some kind of understanding,_  
_when every dream you've dreamed has passed and you're still standing._

Patty Griffin, "Poor Man's House"

There was something about Tim Riggins washing dishes at the crappiest restaurant in town that bothered Julie.

She didn't know why this of all things should bother her, it just did. It bothered her the same way that being forbidden from hanging out with Tyra just because of her reputation had bothered her, or the way that Matt carrying the burdens of a grown man at the age of sixteen had bothered her. It was wrong, that was all. It was just wrong. Tim may have been a beer-swilling screw-up, and most people in town may have thought that washing dishes for minimum wage was exactly where he belonged, but Julie knew better. She had seen a side of him that most people, she guessed, had not. Julie knew from experience that Tim was a good person, and she believed that he deserved a second chance. A real second chance to do something with his life.

Why it mattered enough to get into an actual argument with her parents while they were all just trying to prepare dinner, she had no idea.

"I don't understand why you can't help him," Julie complained as she counted out cutlery to set the table, her voice rising. "Can't you at least put in a good word for him at the school? Anything?"

"Julie," her father sighed, running an exasperated hand through his hair, "it's not that simp-"

"Do you realise that he got trained as a mechanic in there, but he can't even work at a garage because of the conditions of his parole?" Julie interrupted. "It's so ridiculous. He's a fully trained mechanic and he's washing dishes at that gross buffet place up on Washington Avenue. It's just wrong."

"If those are the conditions of his parole, he's gonna have to learn to live with 'em. Those are the consequences of the choices he made," Eric replied vehemently.

"I _know_, but-"

"What the hell am I supposed to do about it, anyway?"

"He _used_ to help you with the football team," Julie said, the hint patently obvious. Tami raised her eyebrows and said nothing, turning back to the stove to check on the chicken baking in the oven.

"He can't coach high school football with a criminal record, Jules," Eric responded.

"Okay, but does the school need like, a groundskeeper or something? Anything?"

"The school actually _does_ need another groundskeeper," Tami ventured hesitantly, glancing at her husband. He looked back at her, annoyed, and they shared some creepy, silent exchange that was all raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

Coach sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Fine. Have him come see me next week. I'll speak to Principal Burnwell about it. But I am holding you, Julie, personally responsible if this doesn't work out."

"Fine," Julie retorted, a tiny seed of doubt planting itself in her mind. What if Tim didn't even want a different job? She would look like a complete idiot. Worse, what if he wanted the job but screwed it up? She had to admit he wasn't the most reliable person on earth.

"Good," he father grumbled, retreating to the dining room. Julie watched him go, and turned to see her mother staring at her. She didn't look terribly pleased.

"There any specific reason why you feel the need to come to Tim Riggins's rescue, Jules?" Tami asked, fixing her with a penetrating look.

Julie gaped at her mother, unsure what to say. She had no idea why what happened to Tim was suddenly so important to her. "I just... I guess I just thought maybe I could help him out," she said finally, shrugging.

Tami's expression softened, and she nodded. "I think that's real good of you to try to give him a hand. But Tim is... Don't get too involved with him, all right?"

Julie nodded, understanding what her mother was implying. "I won't."

Tami turned back to fixing dinner, leaving Julie to contemplate her mother's first question. Why, after years of being away at college and far beyond the close quarters of Dillon, had she gone back to caring about what went on in her hometown?

Like nearly every question which weighed on her mind these days, Julie did not have an answer.

* * *

It took Tim over two weeks of settling in before he made himself drive out onto loop 39 and find his land. He drove in tense silence, not even bothering with the radio, wondering to himself what he would do if it was still unoccupied, if it was perhaps by some miracle for sale.

He'd lost the land during the investigation, after he confessed to all the charges against him and Billy. As it turned out, Missy, the realtor, had been only too happy to inform the police that Tim had paid for the land with a suspiciously large envelope of cash. The last Tim had heard, it was going to be auctioned off by the sheriff's department.

The housing market in the area had apparently recovered somewhat since Tim had been away. Instead of the rolling acres of tree-peppered grassland he had once briefly called his own, there stood a small subdivision of moderately sized new homes. The land no longer sloped down to the creek, the geography completely obscured by the paved cul-de-sac and crowded houses which now stood there.

Tim turned off the highway and idled on the side of the road which led into the subdivision. He stared out at the sun-baked new roofs of the houses, and found it hard to believe that there had been a time when this had belonged to him. He found it even harder to believe that he'd ever been stupid enough to think something like that could last.

He stayed a while longer, but he eventually grew tired and drove home the long way. When he got home, everyone was still at work or daycare, so he grabbed a six pack from the fridge and went out back to sit by the edge of the empty pool. He sat in an old lawn chair and stared hard at nothing, and didn't get up until he had finished every beer in that case.

* * *

It was Tuesday afternoon, and Julie had a long list of errands to run for her parents before she could take a few minutes to go see Tim and tell him the good news. Or what she hoped was good news. She hoped, too, that his job meant that he worked evenings and would be at home in the afternoon, or else she'd have to come back later when everyone would be home.

She was happy, then, when she turned the corner onto Tim's street and saw his Silverado parked in the driveway. She pulled her car in behind it and hopped out, suddenly feeling nervous at the conversation which would have to take place.

Standing on the stoop, she knocked on the blue door and waited. When no one came to the door, she listened closely for movement inside the house, then counted to thirty and knocked again. Still there was no response.

Frowning, Julie turned and looked back at the driveway. Yes, Tim's truck was most definitely parked there. He must be at home – she doubted somehow that he'd taken up a more environmentally friendly mode of transportation. Giving it one last try, she knocked again. Maybe he just didn't want to be bothered.

This time, she heard a loud thump and the sound of a voice in response to her knock. She bit her lip, wondering if she should go, but the door swung open to reveal Tim, looking sleepy and cranky and even more dishevelled than usual.

"Hey," he said gruffly, staring at her in confusion.

"Hey," she replied. "Sorry to interrupt. How are you?"

"Fine," he said, rubbing a hand over his face. Julie got a whiff of stale beer off him as he did so. "Lost my job, though."

"Oh. How come?"

"Long story. What do you need, Jules?"

"Nothing! Just... Well, actually, I was wondering if you'd be interested in a maintenance job at East Dillon High."

He blinked at her. "What?"

"I was talking to my parents about it and we just thought that maybe this might be something you'd be interested in."

"Oh," he said simply, continuing to stare at her.

"Yeah, so, anyway, drop by the fieldhouse and see my dad this week. He said he'd talk to the principal or whatever and see if they could work something out. It's not for sure or anything, but you should go see him."

"All right," he replied. Julie smiled and turned to go, but his voice stopped her halfway down the sidewalk. "Thanks," he said softly. "That's... That's real nice of you, Jules."

"It's fine," she shrugged. "I just figured, well, you know."

Tim nodded, but really he looked no less confused than he had when he first opened the door.

"See you around, Tim," she said, turning once again to go. She climbed into her car and started the engine, trying not to feel totally awkward about the fact that he was still standing in the doorway, watching her leave with a completely dumbfounded look on his face.

* * *

Tim pulled into the East Dillon High School parking lot. Classes were winding down, and on this afternoon the lot was largely empty, leaving him his pick of spots. He parked close to the field house and killed the engine, staring silently at the red and white brick building.

A big part of him wondered what the hell he thought he was doing. He didn't want to face Coach after everything that had happened, not even for a job. Besides, washing dishes wasn't the worst job in the world. He'd had shittier jobs in prison. He could probably get work at another restaurant.

No. He wasn't going to chicken out. When he made the decision to confess to the whole thing four years ago, he promised himself he would face the consequences head on. He promised himself that he could never be called a coward again. Not now. Not ever.

He got out of the truck and closed the door behind him, making his way into the field house. He hesitated for a moment outside Coach's office, then steeled himself and knocked on the door.

"Come on in," Coach called. Tim opened the door, standing before his one-time mentor for the first time in four years. He hadn't changed at all – the same inscrutable face, the same intimidating presence, the same unkempt, expressive hair.

"Riggins," Coach said evenly, putting his pen down and leaning back slightly in his chair.

"Coach," Tim replied. A tense silence fell between them and Tim looked down at his boots, unsure what to say.

"Julie tells me you're looking for a job."

"Yes sir, I am."

Coach nodded, contemplating his laced fingers on the desktop. "You realise you can't work directly with the team with a criminal record?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"And is there any reason I should go out of my way to vouch for you or recommend you to Principal Burnwell for a job elsewhere in the school, when the last time I did that, you proved yourself to be unreliable?"

Tim stared at him, feeling the painful weight of his words. He had no response.

"Do you know how goddamn disappointed I was?" Coach continued, his voice low and biting. "I couldn't figure out why you wouldn't come to that first Lions and Panthers game, and then I heard. What in the hell were you thinking, son?"

Tim paused, looking down at the floor. "With all due respect, sir, I'd rather not talk about it."

"You'd rather not talk about it," Coach repeated, his voice flat. He fell silent, and Tim could see he was working his jaw, a sure sign that he was a hairsbreadth away from erupting. After a long pause, he continued. "The school has a groundskeeping position open. It's strictly maintaining the grounds and the outsides of the buildings, that kinda thing."

"I took a horticultural course through Western Texas College, and I took some construction carpentry, aside from that. I should be able to manage."

Coach nodded slowly, rubbing his jaw with one hand. "I'll speak to Principal Burnwell. I'll let him know you're interested. That's about all I can do; the rest is up to you."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Coach."

Coach nodded again, picking his pen up and looking back down at the papers scattered on his desk. "Shut the door behind you."

Tim looked at his bowed head for a moment, then turned and left the office, the door closing behind him with a click.

He hadn't expected a warm welcome. He knew it wouldn't be good. But that had really hurt.

Yet, all the same, by the end of the week he found himself repairing the fence at the north end of the football field at East Dillon High School.

* * *

Julie was sure she'd never been more grateful to pull into the driveway of her parents' house than she was after her first day as the receptionist at the clinic. Maybe at the end of her marathon road trip home from college earlier that month, but even that didn't feel as draining as this day felt.

Having parked her car and turned the engine off, she revelled for a moment in the cloistered silence. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

Julie had no idea how she was going to make herself get up and go to work the next morning. She really didn't.

Sighing deeply and trying not to think about it, she gathered her things and made her way into the house. Her parents were home already, chatting over a glass of wine and getting dinner ready while Gracie watched some noisy cartoon in the living room.

"Hey, working girl!" Tami greeted her, poking her head out of the kitchen. "How was your first day?"

"It was... um," Julie replied, searching for the right words. Overwhelming? Depressing? Challenging? Terrifying?

"It's a lot to take in, huh?" Tami asked, perceptive as ever. Julie nodded. Tami put an arm around her shoulders and led her into the kitchen. "Well, the good news is that I thought that after such a big day, you might need a little comfort food, so I made you your very favourite thing in the whole wide world."

"Vegetarian lasagne?" Julie asked hopefully, her mood suddenly improving somewhat.

"You got it, babe," Tami smiled. She hugged Julie to her and dropped a kiss on her head. "It gets easier, I promise."

Julie smiled, thankful for her mother's kindness, but she still felt pessimistic. She attempted to shake it off. "Do I have time to go change? I think I hear my yoga pants calling my name."

"You've got time. Go get changed and then come help your sister set the table, all right?"

"All right," Julie replied, heading down the hallway. As she went, she heard her father barking at Gracie to turn the TV off.

She went into her room and dumped her stuff at the door, collapsing face-first on her bed. She'd been on her feet since seven AM learning the filing system, the switchboard, her coworkers' names, policies and procedures... Mrs. Williams was extremely knowledgeable and a good teacher, but she didn't suffer fools gladly, and Julie was already petrified of doing something wrong.

Stiffly, Julie stood up again and began to undress, knowing that if she took too long, Gracie would likely come barrelling down the hallway to hammer her door down.

Dressed in her favourite lounging clothes, she headed back into the living room in time to catch her parents' conversation.

"I guess he got some kind of landscaping or maintenance training while he was in there, I don't know, but the administration thinks it's gonna be a good fit. And I guess the state pays the school district some kind of incentive, since he's an ex-con," her father was saying from his spot at the breakfast bar.

"Are you talking about Tim?" Julie interrupted. "Did he get the job?"

"Yeah, honey, he got the job," Tami replied from the kitchen.

"Awesome," Julie smiled, squeezing by her mother to grab the short stack of plates and cutlery for the table. She didn't know why it mattered, but it was good to know that Tim was doing okay, and that she'd had a hand in that.

"Yeah, awesome," her father grumbled in reply. "Congratulations. You must be feeling pretty pleased with yourself."

"Honey," Tami warned.

"What's that's supposed to mean?" Julie asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway with the stack of plates in her hand to look at her father.

"You tell me. I'm just not sure how we managed to raise such a bleeding heart."

"Bleeding heart?" Julie repeated, her voice beginning to rise. "What, so we're all supposed to condemn him? He's not allowed to have a job in his own town because he screwed up, even though he's already paid his debt to society? It's bad enough that everybody knows what happened and they're already judging him."

"He should have thought of that before he had the bright idea to start running a chop shop out of his brother's business," her father shot back.

Julie swallowed. She didn't have a response to that, and she wasn't sure why it even mattered, why she was suddenly so angry at her father that she wanted to throw down the plates and stomp off to her bedroom like she was still 15 years old.

"Everyone deserves a second chance," she said haughtily, after a long pause. She turned away and began setting the table.

"Funny how Tim Riggins seems to keep stumbling across more second chances, especially when there's a pretty girl around to offer him one."

"That's insulting," Julie ground out, not looking up from her task as she placed a knife alongside each plate.

"What's insulting is –"

"That's enough," Tami said, cutting her husband off mid-sentence. She looked from her husband to her eldest daughter, eyebrows raised. "Little pitchers," she hinted. Julie glanced over to see Gracie peering over the back of the couch, watching the entire exchange with wide, rapt eyes.

"Sorry," Julie mumbled.

Her dad murmured a shamefaced apology as well, coming around into the kitchen to help his wife finish dinner.

They ate their meal mostly in silence, and Julie decided that it would be best if from then on she avoided the subject of Tim Riggins completely. If she wanted to know how things were going, she'd just have to find out for herself.

* * *

Tim was tired. He was absolutely bone tired. But he had to admit that it was a satisfying kind of tired, like after a good football practice, or after sex. Not that he'd enjoyed either one of those things in a long, long time.

His new job was going well. Smitty, his supervisor, was head of the maintenance staff at the school and was an ex-con himself, as it turned out. He'd been in and out a few times in his twenties, but he had "straightened out and settled down" as he'd said to Tim, and lived in East Dillon with his wife and their two daughters. Smitty was a good boss and although Tim was the new guy and ended up doing a lot of the grunt work, it wasn't too bad. Just tiring.

Most evenings he ended up at home on the couch with the family, often finding himself keeping the kids occupied while Billy and Mindy bickered in a mostly good-natured way. Tim wasn't sure it was completely functional, but it wasn't anything compared to the fighting he and Billy had witnessed as kids, so he figured it was okay.

"Look, either _Toy Story 3 _or _Wall-E_," Tim said, holding up the DVDs for his niece and nephew to examine. "If you make me watch _Finding Nemo_ again, I'm gonna lose it. For real."

"I heard that," Mindy said from the kitchen, where she was washing the dinner dishes while Billy dried. "Nothing wrong with _Finding Nemo_. That one's mama's favourite, right, babies?"

"Yup," Stevie said. "But I wanna watch _Toy Story 3_."

"I wanna watch _Wall-E_," Kaitlyn objected, her voice rising to a whine almost immediately.

"Looks like you're gonna have to Rock-Paper-Scissors for it," Tim sighed. "You know how to play Rock-Paper-Scissors?"

The two children shook their heads in unison.

"Okay, here's how this works," he began, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Tim, you wanna get that?" Billy asked.

"Hold tight," he said, ruffling Stevie's hair as he stood and walked to the front door. On opening it, he found Becky standing on the front step in a tank top, jean shorts and cowgirl boots, her curly brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and a purple leather purse slung over one shoulder. She smiled as soon as he opened the door.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he replied, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. "Welcome home."

"Right back at you," Becky said.

"How's college?"

"It's good," Becky nodded, smiling. "Great, actually. It must be good to be home. For you, I mean."

"Sure," Tim nodded. They stared at each other for a beat, and then Becky bit her lip and looked down. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the small, battered snow globe Tim's mother had once given him, and which he had given to her to take care while he was gone.

"Here," she said, holding out her hand. Tim smiled, but shook his head.

"You keep it," he replied.

"No, you said that you'd be back for it, and you kept your promise. I took care of it for you, so I kept my promise. If you don't want it, you should give it to Stevie or Kaitlyn."

Tim took the snow globe, turning it over in his hands, thinking of everything that had been going through his mind the night he gave the globe to Becky and tried to make her understand that he was trying real hard to be that guy she wanted him to be. That guy he wanted to be.

"The thing is," Becky continued, "I love you, Tim. I really do love you. But not like_ that_. Not like I used to. You're one of my best friends. You're like the big brother I never had. I always want to have you in my life. But I can't be that girl for you."

Tim looked up at her, at her open, earnest face, which had not changed a bit since the last time he saw her, standing on her back patio on that cold November night. "I know, Becks. It's okay."

Becky grinned suddenly, throwing her arms around him and almost knocking the breath out of him. At 20 years old, she still just came up to his chin. Tim hugged her back.

"I'm so glad you're back, that you're okay," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said, patting her back awkwardly. "I'm okay."

"So what's new?" she asked, breaking the hug and taking a step back. "Do you have a job?"

"Yeah, I'm working at East Dillon, maintenance. Mostly I mow the lawns and paint and junk like that."

"That's pretty good. How'd you nab that?"

"Through Coach Taylor."

"Really? From what you told me, I thought he'd be pretty mad at you about everything."

"He is. No, his daughter was the one who kinda made that happen for me."

"Julie Taylor? Interesting," Becky said, raising her eyebrows and smirking at him. Tim glowered at her. "Didn't she go away to college? Wasn't she like, valedictorian of her year, or something?"

"She went to Berkeley, I think."

"And she came back here?" Becky asked, her disbelief plain in her voice.

"I guess so. I dunno, Becks. What's with the twenty questions?"

"Oh, just making sure she's good enough for you," Becky teased, grinning at him. Tim rolled his eyes. As if a girl like Julie was in the cards. Even Billy had pointed out the other night that he'd better start introducing Tim to some of Mindy's old friends from The Landing Strip, because no other single girl in town would be caught dead in his company these days.

"I should probably get going," Becky sighed. "The warden runs a pretty tight operation."

"Your mom's still on your case, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. One unplanned pregnancy and suddenly you're a delinquent," she said, somewhat wryly, but with a hint of real sadness to her voice. She shrugged, a smile spreading across her face once more. "I'll see you around, okay? I'm working at the movie theatre again this summer, in case you wanna come say hi."

Tim nodded, turning the snowglobe over in his hands once again. "Thanks, Becky. For holding onto it for me."

"No. Thank you, Tim Riggins, for keeping your promise," Becky replied. "It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too, Becks."

Becky smiled and turned to walk to her car, an old orange Thunderbird parked out on the street. Tim watched as she strolled down the driveway. She looked a lot like the girl he'd met four years earlier, singing her heart out in her pyjamas while he attempted a hungover walk of shame, but she had a confidence and a certainty to her that was new. She wasn't a girl anymore. Becky was a young woman.

Tim waved as she drove away. Whatever guy ended up with Becky was going to be one lucky son of a bitch, to have a gal as loyal and true as she was. Tim hoped he'd be around to make sure that guy knew it, too.

* * *

Tim turned the corner and headed back down the football field, gritting his teeth as the riding mower bumped roughly over the uneven surface of the turf. He scowled. He was going to get this field smooth if it killed him; the Panthers didn't know how good they had it.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of one hand as he crossed the twenty yard line, he spotted a figure standing down the field at the bottom corner of the bleachers. Judging by the long blond hair blowing behind her in the breeze, the person was a girl. As he got closer, he realised it was Julie, and she looked like she was waiting for him, leaning casually against the wooden structure.

He came to a stop in front of her and killed the motor as she stood up straight and came towards him. She brushed her hair behind one ear and smiled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey," he replied. He couldn't help but smile back; she had a shy, bashful sort of expression he'd never seen on her before, except perhaps the time she came to his door to thank him for coming to her rescue at that party. That seemed like another lifetime to him now.

"I stopped by to drop something off for my dad. I'm on my lunch. Just thought I'd come see how things are going."

"Good," he said. "They're going real good. It's hard work, some of it, but it's a pretty nice time of year to be outside."

"That's great," Julie replied. She squinted at him for a moment in the bright sunshine, then snickered. "You know, I thought this when my dad started coaching the Lions, and I'm thinking it again – you look so weird in red and black."

"Huh?"

"Your hat," Julie pointed, still half-laughing.

"Oh," Tim said, removing the East Dillon ball cap he'd had on. He crushed the beak of the hat in his hands, still trying to break it into that well-worn shape. "Yeah, Smitty grabbed this for me. He's my boss. Felt like it'd be disloyal to wear my State Champs hat."

Julie scoffed. "Yeah, you have to be careful about that kind of thing in this town."

Tim nodded, and an awkward silence fell between them as he put his hat back on, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Listen," he began eventually, "I feel like I didn't really thank you for getting me this job. Can I take you out for lunch or something?"

Julie seemed taken aback, and then looked down, pleased. "That would be really nice. I can't today, though, I actually have to be getting back to work soon. Are you free Thursday?"

"Yeah, wide open. You wanna meet me at that Mexican place down on Industrial?"

"Sure," she nodded. "Meet you there. Is 12:30 okay for you?"

"Okay for me," he said.

"All right. I'd better get going."

Tim nodded and watched her walk across the patchy grass to the parking lot, her long hair once again caught in the breeze. Why had he felt the need to take her out for lunch? He could have just said thanks again. Why had she even come to see him? It wasn't like they were old friends, really.

Starting the mower once again, Tim smiled. Whatever the answers were to his questions, he knew one thing for certain: he was looking forward to Thursday.

* * *

Julie wanted out.

Four years of living in dorms and apartments with only short visits home had gotten her well accustomed to making and living by her own rules. It wasn't as though her parents were oppressive or nosy, really; they seemed to respect that she was an adult now. But years of parenting were apparently hard to shake off, for they still asked Julie where she was going and what time she planned on coming home every time she left the house. It could simply have been idle curiosity, but it bugged Julie all the same.

But it wasn't really her parents that spurred Julie on to start checking apartment listings and making checklists of household items she had and household items she needed. No, it was the fact that she was 22 years old and that she had a job, and with no other prospects in her immediate future, she ought to behave like a grown-up and get her own place. At least then she'd have that going for her.

Unfortunately, once she began looking, she quickly realised that affordable one bedroom apartments were few and far between in Dillon. Until she got a couple of serious raises at work, there was no way she could afford a place of her own.

For now, she was stuck with her parents. Stuck with her parents, Gracie, and the list of groceries her mother had just sent to her via text, asking that Julie pick them up before coming home from work that night.

Julie grimaced as she pulled into the parking lot of the Mexican restaurant where she and Tim had agreed to meet. Her parents weren't making her pay any rent yet, so she supposed that being the designated errand girl was her contribution to the household.

Tim's truck was parked a few spots away in the half-full lot, and Julie was relieved, as she'd never been to this place before and always felt self-conscious when she had to meet someone out in public. She tried to remind herself that it was even sillier to feel that way in her hometown than it had been in Berkeley.

She was also glad Tim hadn't suggested Applebee's or Fran's. She'd been turned off the food at the former when she was an employee, and the latter was still so popular with the high school kids that it would have been weird to go there.

She entered the restaurant and looked around, spotting Tim in a booth by the windows. A waitress was standing next to the table, one hip leaning against it as she chatted with Tim.

Approaching somewhat hesitantly, Julie caught Tim's eye over the waitress's shoulder.

"Here she is," Tim muttered to the waitress, who turned and gave Julie a critical once-over before heading back to the kitchen without another word.

"Don't let me stop you from getting a date," Julie smirked, sliding into the booth across from him. He was dressed for work in a pair of jeans and a grey, grass-stained t-shirt with iEast Dillon High School/i emblazoned across the chest in red. His red hat was sitting on the table next to him. It seemed working outdoors was good for him – he looked better than he had when she had first encountered him in front of the Alamo Freeze a few weeks ago.

Tim grimaced and shook his head, handing her a menu. "She's nice, but I'm pretty sure she's at least 55."

"And? Are you telling me that's too old for you?" Julie asked.

"A little. Not that gals are hammering down my door these days," he mused, looking down at his menu. Julie peeked at his downturned head over the top of her own menu. His words held no self-pity or bitterness, or even nostalgia for better times; he seemed simply to be stating a fact.

"Dating prospects around here are pretty grim, anyway," Julie said, hoping to avoid any discussion of prison, although she had to admit she was morbidly curious. "I don't even have any friends in town, never mind anyone I want to date."

"We're friends," Tim pointed out.

Julie smiled. "I guess we kinda are, yeah. Thanks for inviting me out for lunch, by the way. All I ever do these days is go to work and go home. Trips to the drug store are downright thrilling, at this point."

"No kidding," Tim said. "I'm still getting used to driving myself around, going places on my own. It's weird."

Tim said it so nonchalantly, all Julie could do for a long moment was stare at him across the table. Apparently prison was going to be a harder subject to avoid than she'd hoped. The waitress came to her rescue, returning to the table to take their orders. When she departed, Tim cleared his throat and rested his elbows on the table, looking at her curiously.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Julie replied.

"Why'd you go out of your way to help me with that job? I saw your dad. He's not real happy with me, so I'm guessing he wasn't too happy with you, either. Why'd you bother?"

Julie opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. "You wanna know the truth?" she asked finally.

"Yeah."

"I did it for myself. I mean, I saw you and heard where you were working and thought you could probably do better, but really, I just did it because I was tired of feeling like a total waste of space. College didn't lead to what I thought it was going to lead to, and after wanting so badly to get out of Dillon, I'm back here anyway. I guess I just wanted to feel like I could do something or help someone," she paused, trying to gauge Tim's blank expression. "Do you think that makes me a bad person?"

"What? Hell no," Tim replied, shaking his head. "I owe you big time. I couldn't hack it there, anyway. I didn't even last two weeks."

"What happened?"

Tim seemed to hesitate before giving a little shrug. "Fell off the wagon and stopped going, to be honest."

"Oh," Julie said merely, unsure how else to respond to that. Tim's drinking had been notorious in their high school days, but it never occurred to her that he may have actually needed or sought help.

"Anyway, thank you. I really appreciate it. Everybody else in town's kinda forgotten I exist, I guess."

"Not everybody," Julie smiled. There was a pause, and Julie observed him. Before she could help herself, her curiosity got the better of her. "What was it like?" she asked softly. "Being in prison, I mean."

He blinked, that inscrutable expression back on his face. It was impossible to tell whether he was insulted or hurt or anything, really. Under his blank gaze she felt foolish, and opened her mouth to take back her question when he spoke.

"Loud. It's loud in there, pretty much all the time. It's crowded. It's boring. It's cramped. You can't... You don't... It's kinda hard to get any space to breathe, I guess."

Julie nodded, feeling utterly ashamed of herself for prying. She stared down at the worn Formica tabletop in front of her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you about that. You don't need people gawking at you like you're an attraction in a zoo."

"It's okay," Tim shrugged. "Not like I'm the first guy in this town to go to prison. Anyway, it's all right, talking about it."

She looked back up at him. "_Are _you talking to someone about it? A counsellor or like... I don't know. Your brother, maybe?"

"No. Just you, I guess."

The waitress returned to the table once again with their food. When she departed, there was a silence during which they simply looked at each other across the table. Finally, Tim cleared his throat and spoke.

"You talk to Seven much?"

Julie eyed Tim for a moment before accepting the change of subject with a little half-shrug. "Not really. We kept in touch for a while after he went to Chicago, but once I graduated and went to Berkeley, it was harder. Last time I saw him was a couple years ago when he was home for Christmas, but by then I was dating Nate anyway, so we just sort of said hello and that was it."

"Nate?" Tim asked. "Who's Nate?"

"Ex-boyfriend," Julie explained. "College boyfriend, I guess. We were together for two years, but we broke up this spring."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He got into grad school back in California, and I didn't, and when I told him that I didn't want to stay in Berkeley just to make minimum wage somewhere and watch him go to school while I hoped that maybe they'd let me in next year... Well, he wasn't as brokenhearted as I'd expected he would be."

"Sounds like a dumbass. Did you want to go to grad school?"

Julie shrugged. "I don't know, to be honest. I think part of me did, the part of me that didn't want to come back to Dillon. Another big part of me was tired and lost and just wanted to run somewhere safe, wanted to go home. I guess that part won."

"Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, you don't need to worry. You can go anywhere, do anything you want."

"I don't know if that's really true, but thanks, anyway," Julie smiled.

They passed their meal catching each other up on what old classmates were up to, Julie finding herself being the one to tell Tim that the last she had heard, Lyla was engaged to her college boyfriend, whom Julie had not met. As with everything, Tim seemed to take it silently in stride, the slight downturn of his mouth the only sign of any unhappiness.

Later, as they walked out to the parking lot to head back to work, Julie thanked Tim again for the meal.

"Seriously, you really didn't have to do that," she said, stopping in front of her car, keys in hand.

"Yeah, but I wanted to," he replied, digging a battered pack of cigarettes out of his jeans.

"Well, thank you." Julie squinted at him in the bright afternoon sunlight. "See you around?"

"You bet, Jules," he nodded. Without another word, he turned and walked to his truck, putting his red cap back on his head as he went.

Julie watched him go, and was troubled by the vague sense that there was something left undone between them. It was silly, she knew, just her recent melancholy and dissatisfaction manifesting itself in some weird urge to help him. After all, he was only Tim Riggins.

What was he to her except another fixture of her hometown, another reminder of where she had inadvertently and unfortunately ended up?

* * *

Tim loved his niece and nephew, but after the third morning in a row being woken up by Stevie and Kaitlyn's enthusiastic attentions, he was starting to wonder if he might not like them better if they all weren't living right on top of each other. It was strange to go from living in a four by eight prison cell with no privacy to sleeping on a couch with the same problem.

"Uncle Timmy, what do you do all day?" Stevie asked, ignoring his cereal in favour of gazing admiringly up at Tim from his seat next to him at the table.

"I look after the fields and stuff at the high school," Tim replied, shovelling a large spoonful of sugary cereal in his mouth before chasing it with some coffee. Mornings were the worst.

"Daddy fix cars," Kaitlyn offered, sombrely watching Tim while pushing a piece of melon around her plate.

"I know," Tim replied with a smile, reaching out to nudge her plate closer to her. "Finish that up, all right?"

Kaitlyn wrinkled her nose, but reached over and grabbed the piece of fruit, shoving it into her mouth with a grimace. Tim didn't call her on eating with her hands, even though Billy and Mindy were trying with limited success to teach her to use cutlery. He figured eating with your hands was better than not eating at all.

"Well, you're just gonna have to ask Garrity for a raise," Billy was saying, emerging from the bedroom while buttoning his work shirt, looking perturbed. Mindy followed, apparently in an equally foul mood.

"Right, I'm supposed to ask for a raise when in six weeks I'm gonna be going on mat leave?"

"He's your step-dad," Billy insisted. "Doesn't he basically _have_ to give you a raise?"

"No," Mindy snapped. "Anyway, I thought you said the work you were getting from Garrity Motors was bringing in a lot of money. What the hell's going on over there?"

"Never mind about the business," Billy grumbled. They were in the kitchen now, and Tim glanced down to see his niece and nephew watching their parents with wide-eyed concern, their breakfasts forgotten.

"Don't tell me to never mind about the business, Billy. Not now. Not after everything. It's my business as much as it is yours!"

"Who wants to watch some cartoons before it's time for daycare?" Tim asked loudly. Not waiting for a response, he pulled Stevie's chair out from under the table and gave his nephew a nudge on the shoulder before scooping Kaitlyn up and leading them both to the living room. It wasn't exactly getting them right out of the path of the storm, but it was a start. Once he had them on the couch and the TV on with the volume cranked, he made his way to the kitchen, where Billy and Mindy continued to argue about god-knew-what.

"You wanna maybe go talk this over in the bedroom or something?" Tim said in a low voice.

"Stay out of it, Tim," Billy snapped, glaring at him. Tim glared back before turning to head into the bathroom to change for work.

"Kinda hard to stay out of it," Tim grumbled in reply. The last thing he heard before he closed the bathroom door was Billy muttering about the house being too damn small and people minding their own business.

Tim stared into the grungy mirror and sighed. He'd mind his own business if he could. He knew Billy would never put him out on his ass, not after everything that had happened, but it was getting more and more difficult to avoid the reality that there just wasn't room for all of them in that house.

Tim wanted space. That was all he wanted anymore. He just wanted space.


	3. Chapter 3

_Just before the flood comes_  
_Just before the night falls_  
_Just before the blood runs_  
_Into the valley_  
_Just before my eyes go_  
_Just before we can't go any further_  
_Love throws a line to you and me._

Patty Griffin, "Love Throw a Line"

Julie lingered in the vestibule of the grocery store after picking up some groceries for her mom, her eyes restlessly scanning the bulletin board on which were tacked community notices of all kinds – advertisements for garage sales and used trucks, babysitting services and lost cats. She was on the prowl for apartment listings, but still wasn't coming up with anything affordable.

"You in the market for a John Deere, Taylor?"

Julie turned to find Tim standing next to her, frowning down at the advertisement directly in front of her, which was for a very used, very rusty riding lawnmower. She laughed. "No, just apartments."

"Getting restless, huh?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I guess I got spoiled by dorm life and living in sin. I love my parents, but now that I have a job, I think it's probably time. You know?"

Tim nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward to look more closely at an ad. "I hear you. I can't stay with Billy and Mindy forever, but it's not like I've got tons of money."

"I know!" Julie moaned. "Look how expensive these places are! I don't get it. I'm not gonna be able to afford a place of my own until I get a couple of pretty serious raises. Even then, I don't know. I don't want to live in a total dump, you know?"

"Same. I could afford this place, if I didn't need food, or gas for my truck," he said, tapping one ad in particular.

Julie sighed and looked more closely at one flyer. It advertised a complex in the centre of Dillon which had numerous vacancies. She looked down at the ad, and then over at Tim, who was silently reading an ad for a dirt bike. She looked at the apartment ad again and frowned, an idea forming.

"You know," she murmured, "they have two bedroom suites available."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So... Do you want to be roommates?"

Tim turned to stare at her. "You're a girl."

"That's true," she replied drily. "I am a girl. A girl who can't afford a one bedroom suite but might be able to manage a two bedroom suite with a roommate. And you are a boy in a similar situation."

Tim frowned, contemplating this.

"Besides, technically we've been roommates before, if you think about it," Julie pointed out.

"I guess," Tim replied hesitantly.

"It's either this or I'll have to place an ad for a roommate," she said, shuddering as she recalled the roommate she had in Berkeley, before Schuyler – the girl liked to bring home strange guys at all hours, and had a pet snake to whom she fed live mice. After the third time Julie was late for class because a total stranger was taking a 30-minute shower, she had ended up sleeping at Nate's more often than not. "I had to do that one year in college, and trust me, it wasn't pretty."

Tim nodded, reading the ad more closely and still looking unsure.

"Are you allowed to change addresses, with your parole and everything?" Julie asked softly.

"Oh, yeah," he replied. "I just need to tell my P.O. if I move."

"Okay, well, if you want to..." Julie said, trailing off as she began to feel foolish. Was she seriously trying to convince_ Tim Riggins _to move in with her? There was something truly bizarre and a little bit pathetic about that. "Anyway, it's just an idea. It's probably dumb... I gotta go. See you around." Julie turned on her heel and left the store, heading across the parking lot to her car. She already had her key in the door before she realised he had followed her.

"Jules, wait," he said, coming to a stop at the hood of her car. She turned and looked at him somewhat warily, feeling embarrassed. "Are you serious? That offer was for real?"

Julie shrugged helplessly. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, who else am I gonna live with? Everyone I know except my family has moved somewhere else." She swallowed. She wasn't going to let herself think too much about that. Not right now.

Tim squinted at her in the harsh afternoon sunlight for a long moment. Finally, he cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. "You had a look at this place yet?"

"No, not yet. I just saw the ad today."

Tim nodded, scuffing at the pavement with his boot. "You wanna go see about it?"

Julie smiled, and decided to let her mother's ice cream melt in the back seat of her car. She was glad she did, because less than three hours later, she and Tim were signing a lease agreement and trying to scrape together a security deposit.

* * *

Julie picked at the salad on her dinner plate as her parents discussed what to do about the washing machine, which had broken down the day before. She wasn't listening. She was preoccupied with all the things she needed to do in the next three weeks, when she and Tim would be moving into their apartment.

iShe and Tim/i. She stifled a smirk. She was moving into an apartment with Tim Riggins, and she hadn't quite wrapped her mind around it yet.

"Well, we'll have to figure something out, 'cause getting it fixed isn't gonna be cheap, either," Tami said to Eric, taking a sip of the glass of white wine which sat in front of her. She sent a glance Julie's way. "You're mighty quiet over there, Jules."

"Yeah," Julie agreed, lifting her head at the sound of her name. "I guess today was kind of a big day, actually," she continued delicately, figuring that now was as good a moment as any to break the news to her parents.

"That so?" her mother asked, looking down to slice some chicken breast on her plate.

"Yeah. I bumped into Tim Riggins at the grocery store, and we were kind of talking about living at home and stuff, and there was an ad for that block of apartments they just renovated on Grant Avenue, right downtown? Anyway, we went to go check it out and it was pretty great, so, well... We put down a security deposit and we're moving in on the first."

The silence following her words was absolute. Even Gracie was quiet, her eyes migrating worriedly back and forth between her parents as Julie blithely ate another forkful of salad.

"Sorry – say that again. You and Tim Riggins are _what_?" her father asked, knife and fork paused midway between his mouth and the table.

"Tim and I decided to be roommates," Julie repeated. It wasn't terribly mature of her, she knew, but she took a small amount of pleasure in the identical looks of shock on her parents' faces.

"You have got to be kidding me," Eric said, setting his utensils on his plate and turning to stare Julie down.

"Honey, that is... Well, that is just plain outrageous! What on earth are you thinking?" Tami exclaimed, shaking her head.

"Well, mostly I was thinking that I have a job now, and I kinda got used to living away from home, and I'd like to move out," Julie replied drily.

"And what the hell does that have to do with Tim Riggins?" her father replied, his elbows resting on the table. His hands formed a steeple in front of his face, and his knuckles were white with tension.

"I can't afford a place on my own, and neither can Tim, but we figured out that we can both afford to live with a roommate."

"Julie, do you really think that's appropriate?" Tami asked.

"What, because he's a guy? Mom, please. I'm not 16 anymore. I practically lived with Nate in junior year when I was sharing that apartment with crazy snake girl. I told you that. Besides, Tim and I would just be roommates. We're barely even friends."

"First of all, I don't appreciate your tone, Julie," her mother replied. "We are still your parents. Second, can you please at least try to look at this from our perspective? Out of nowhere, you've told us that you're moving in with a boy you're barely friends with, as you say, who also just got out of _prison_. I mean, sweetheart, stop and think about how that sounds."

"Oh my god," Julie groaned, pushing back from the table. "You're acting like we're living in sin or something. We're going to be _roommates_. Two separate bedrooms! Anyway, this is Tim we're talking about, not a stranger. Technically we've been roommates before. Remember, when you let him sleep on the couch? Remember the epic overreaction to that whole incident? Jeez."

"That was a completely different set of circumstances, Julie, and you know it," her father chimed in. "So don't get all high-handed with your mother. You are still our daughter and you're still living under our roof, and that means you had better show her some respect."

Julie huffed and stood up, slowly counting to ten to control her temper. "It's a done deal. We put a deposit down and we're moving in on the first. It's _my _decision."

She turned to leave, and she was in her bedroom with the door closed behind her before she stopped long enough to realise that it had been years since she'd had an argument like that with her parents. It had been even longer since she'd stomped off to her room and slammed the door. Grudgingly, she acknowledged that she couldn't blame them for treating her like a teenage girl when she behaved like one.

Maybe that was why people needed to grow up and move out of their childhood homes, she thought. She had returned to her old ways as surely as she'd returned to her too-small little girl's bedroom. If she stayed, she would remain the same 18-year-old girl she had been the day she packed her bags and left for college.

If Tim Riggins was her way out of that, her way to feel like she was still living her life even if she was in Dillon, she wasn't going to question it. It didn't matter if no one else understood.

* * *

"I'm moving into a new place," Tim said, handing his rental information over to Rob, who took it, adjusting his glasses. It was their weekly meeting, when Tim would use his lunch break to drive over and check in. "Billy and Mindy would never say anything, but that house is way too small for three adults and two little kids, especially with another baby on the way. Didn't want to wear out my welcome or make things tough for them."

Rob nodded, examining the paper. "Who's Julie Taylor?" he asked.

"She's a friend. Her dad was my football coach in high school, and they helped me get that job at East Dillon. We go pretty far back."

"You think that's a good idea, moving in with a woman so soon after getting released? Might be kinda unstable."

"It's not like that; I'm not moving in with a woman. I'm moving in with a friend."

"A friend who's a woman."

"Yeah, I guess," Tim shrugged.

"What does Julie do for a living?"

"She just graduated from college, so I guess she's trying to figure out what she wants to do next. Right now she works at the clinic up on Washington Avenue."

Rob nodded, copying down Tim's new address into his file.

"Does Julie have a record, or any kind of criminal history that could pose a risk for you?"

Tim thought back to the Julie he knew in high school, who had regarded the drunken adolescent escapades of him and his teammates with a kind of haughty disdain that was blatantly obvious even to Tim. He smiled. "No, she's totally straight up."

"Mmm," Rob nodded, comprehension suddenly dawning. "Coach Taylor's daughter."

"Yeah, she's not exactly gonna be cooking meth in the bathroom," Tim said. Given his history of criminally-inclined roommates, it was probably only somewhat funny. Rob seemed to let it slide.

"You're gonna be totally responsible for yourself for the first time. Paying your own way, looking after things for yourself. Think you can do that and stay out of trouble?" Rob asked, leaning back in his chair to observe Tim shrewdly.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Tim replied. Rob didn't reply immediately, instead continuing to stare at him. Tim tried not to show his discomfort at being examined so closely. Finally, Rob cleared his throat and turned back to his desk, briskly writing something down and closing Tim's file.

"If you're sure," he said simply.

Tim wasn't sure, but he didn't need to say it out loud for both of them to know it was true.

* * *

The following weeks passed in a flurry of activity as Julie scoured every second-hand store and garage sale she could find in search of furniture and housewares. The Taylors offered up what they could, and Billy and Mindy were generous as well. Tim told Julie that he figured this was Mindy's way of dumping their old junk so she could shop for a new living room suite. On the day they moved, Julie saw the Rigginses' old TV – battered and barely held together with years-old duct tape – and understood where Mindy was coming from.

It was early morning when Julie began carrying box after box out of the garage and piling them in the driveway, things which had only recently made the trip from California to Texas. Some of her things were still packed in boxes in the garage, a product of her laziness for which she was now grateful.

She had packed her car full of her clothes and more precious items, and was nearly finished hauling all the boxes out in front of the garage when Tim roared up in his old Silverado, neatly turning around and backing the big truck into the driveway.

"Hey," he greeted her, hopping out. He was wearing beat-up jeans and an old Dillon Panthers t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He smiled at her, and Julie was caught off guard by the happiness in his face. He looked younger. She half expected him to tell her to hurry her ass up and get in the truck, because they were going to be late for first period and he still had to stop for gas, as though this day was taking place in a now distant past. Setting aside her musings, she rolled her sleeves up and turned to show off her handiwork.

"Not bad, huh? And I did this all this morning. Without help," she gloated, for Gracie was inside watching cartoons with a bowl of cereal, and her mother was enjoying a rare extra few minutes of sleep.

Her father, meanwhile, had elected to be conspicuously scarce, leaving the house at the very break of dawn without even a cup of coffee to see him on his way. Julie knew a personal foul when she was hit with one, but she decided to simply get through the day and save her hurt feelings for later.

"What do you think we should do first – furniture, or boxes?" Julie asked, surveying the mountain of boxes and the small collection of furniture cluttered around her dad's ping-pong table.

Tim shrugged. "Don't think it really matters. My stuff's all over there already. We might as well just pack the truck as full as we can and start making trips."

"Your stuff's over there already?" Julie complained. "You've been in the apartment and everything?"

"I can get up early when I have to," Tim replied, unlatching the tailgate of his track and reaching for the nearest box.

"Morning, y'all," came a voice from the garage doorway which led into the house. Tami was standing there in her bathrobe and pyjamas, looking less than completely rested but still her usual cheerful self.

"Morning, Mrs. Taylor," Tim replied, in his most subdued and respectful _I'm-talking-to-Coach's-wife_ tone. Julie barely restrained the urge to roll her eyes at him, although she knew it was genuine, and truly, she appreciated it. Her mother had accepted Julie's decision to move out, but only just, and she figured that Tim being on his best behaviour could only help.

Tami came out onto the driveway and observed for a moment as Julie took a brief break and Tim loaded boxes into the back of the truck. Eventually, Tami gave a little shrug and turned to go back inside. "Y'all seem to have everything under control, but let me know if you need a hand," she said, disappearing back into the gloom of the garage. "I'm just making coffee right now, if you want some."

"Where's your dad?" Tim asked once Tami was inside, loading another box into the truck before standing up straight, flicking his long hair out of his eyes.

"At work," Julie replied shortly.

"It's Saturday."

"I know."

Tim stopped what he was doing. Julie could feel his eyes on her as she bent over, fixing the tape on a box which had come open. She stood and stretched a little, trying to avoid his stare to no avail.

"Your dad's mad," he said, no question in his voice. Julie nodded. "Is this a bad idea?"

"He'll get over it," Julie shrugged.

"I don't wanna come between you and your family. Can't afford to get any more on Coach's bad side," Tim mused, frowning contemplatively at his truck.

"Look – this is my life, and I think even they would admit that this is preferable to me moving in with some complete stranger," Julie said decisively, lifting a box and sliding it onto the tailgate.

Tim stood silently watching her for a moment, then sighed and began loading boxes once again. Within a few short minutes, the truck was packed full, and Tim flipped the gate up.

"You wanna drive over with me, with this load, or stay here?" he asked.

Julie looked down at her watch. It was early yet, and they had already gotten quite a lot done. "I'll come with you," she said, turning and closing the heavy overhead garage door with a groan of exertion. She brushed her hands off on her jeans and, grabbing her bag from her car, hopped into the unlocked truck.

"Here," Tim said, after he climbed into the driver's seat. He held a ring containing three keys out to her. It was her set of apartment keys – one for their suite, one for the mail room, and one thin brass-coloured key for their mailbox.

"Thanks," Julie replied, taking the keys from him and working them onto the key ring which already held her car keys. It was a little dorky, how excited she was, so she tried her best not to show it.

Tim pulled out of the driveway and headed east, in the direction of Grant Avenue.

"Listen," Tim said as he took a turn onto the main drag which led out of the Taylors' neighbourhood, "my friend Becky – I told you about her, right?"

"I think so," Julie replied. "She's the one who goes to Midland, you lived in her backyard... She went to East Dillon, right?"

"Yeah. Well, she's pretty excited about this whole apartment thing, so she kinda elbowed her way into things. I said I didn't need any help, but there's no saying no to her, believe me. She's over there, unpacking my stuff or cleaning or something, I don't know. You don't mind, do you?" he asked, taking his eyes off the road briefly to glance at her.

"No!" Julie said, shaking her head. "Of course not. She's your friend. She's welcome any time." Julie looked out her window. How dense was she that she had not given any consideration to Tim having girlfriends over? He was _Tim Riggins_, for crying out loud.

They arrived at the apartment shortly thereafter, Tim parking at the bottom of a set of outdoor stairs and landings which led up to their suite on the third floor. With a sigh, Julie tightened her ponytail and hopped out. With all those stairs, today was going to be exhausting – there was no way around it.

Each grabbing a couple of boxes, they began climbing the stairs, Tim balancing his against a wall long enough to open the door, which was unlocked. As he gently kicked it open, the small brass B on the door came unfastened and swung down against the door with a rusty scrape.

The sound of a sweet, wavering voice singing along to the local top 40 station filled the apartment; its source the kitchen. The apartment was small – two tiny bedrooms, one bathroom, the living room, and a kitchen just large enough for two people to stand, as long as the refrigerator and oven doors were closed. It did, however, boast a narrow little balcony and a sliding glass door off the living room which let in streams of morning sunlight.

"Hey Becks," Tim called, dropping the boxes in his arms onto the battered couch already plunked artlessly in the middle of the living room.

The music died abruptly and Becky came around the bar-style kitchen counter, dressed in an old tank-top and shorts, her curly brown hair piled high on the crown of her head. Her forearms were hidden by two bright yellow cleaning gloves, and she held a grungy rag in one hand.

"Jules, this is Becky," Tim said, gesturing pointlessly as Julie put her boxes down on the floor. "Becks, this is Julie."

"Hi," Julie said, giving a little wave. Becky sized her up, one eyebrow arched. She looked over at Tim, then back at Julie.

"Your hair is really pretty," she said finally, as though this was her ruling on Julie entirely. "How do you get it so shiny like that?"

Julie blinked. "Uh, I don't know. I condition and try not to overdo it with the blow dryer?"

"Well, it's beautiful. You're so lucky to have such straight hair. I love your clothes, too. Your style is totally unique."

"Thank you," Julie replied, casting a glance at Tim, who was watching this exchange with a small smile.

"I'm cleaning the kitchen. The fridge was kinda gross. If you want, we can clean together, and then Tim and Billy can do all the heavy lifting," Becky said, looking anxiously over at Tim. "Or, you know, I can go – I don't want to be in the way."

"No, it's okay, I like that idea," Julie reassured her, joining the younger girl in the kitchen doorway. "It's really nice of you to even offer to help."

Tim sent her a grateful look as Becky beamed at her. Just like that, Julie had earned herself a fan.

"All right," Tim said, heading for the door. "I'm gonna get Billy up and start bringing furniture over. You girls gonna be all right?"

"We'll be fine!" Becky chirped happily. With a roll of his eyes, Tim turned and left. Becky turned back to Julie, a big grin on her face. "If you want, I'll clean the oven. What do you want to listen to? We can change it to whatever station you want! I bet you like the college station, right? I'll find it. Then you can tell me all about California. Tim told me you went to school in San Francisco. Is that true? I bet it was so cool!"

As Becky skirted around her to change the radio station, Julie smiled. It seemed living with Tim wouldn't result in as many awkward silences as Julie had thought. Not with Becky around, at least.

* * *

Tim wasn't sure what time it was when they finally called it quits, only that he was so tired it was a struggle just to stand. He and Billy had spent the day moving everything from his place and Julie's to the apartment, with periodic assistance from Julie and Becky, who looked after all the cleaning and as much of the arranging as they could.

Billy had left hours ago, before dinner, leaving the other three to have pizza and beer on the living room floor. Work slowed considerably after that, until eventually Becky fell asleep trying to put together an assembly-required TV stand, and Tim announced that it was time to give up and go to bed. Becky departed with a sleepy promise to return the next day, and Tim and Julie were left alone in their new apartment for the first time.

"I'm so exhausted, I think I've somehow gone past the point where sleep would be helpful. I'm in some new dimension of tiredness," Julie remarked. They were both sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, watching the local news. Their cable had not been hooked up yet, but Tim was so beat he didn't even care that he was missing _Sports Center_.

"Place looks great, though," Tim offered. "You and Becks did a real good job. Hope she wasn't too much of a handful."

"She's... intense," Julie replied delicately. "She seems like she really wears her heart on her sleeve."

"Yeah, Becky's great. She wrote me a letter every week when I was away, since her mom wouldn't let her visit."

"Really?"

"Sure. She's a real good friend."

"So are you two...?" Tim glanced over to see Julie smiling mischievously, one eyebrow cocked.

"Together? Nah. I think she kinda had a thing for me when we first met, but she moved on pretty quick once she got to college. She's like the little sister I never had, you know?"

"That's good," Julie nodded, a faint smile on her face as she turned her attention back to the TV. They fell quiet, and within a few minutes, Tim noticed that Julie's head was nodding as she began to fall asleep. Reaching for the remote control, he turned the TV off. The sudden silence prompted Julie to stir.

"Did I fall asleep?" she asked hoarsely.

"Looks like," Tim said. "I'm calling it a night. You?"

"If I can clear a spot on my bed big enough to sleep on, yes," Julie replied sleepily, standing and stretching her arms over her head with a tired groan. The old Habitat for Humanity t-shirt she was wearing rode up as she did so, exposing her tanned midsection. Clearing his throat, Tim turned away and bid her goodnight, making his way to his bedroom.

"Night, Tim," she called back from the other side of the door. Tim heard her bedroom door close behind her, followed by the faint sound of her shuffling about on the other side of the surprisingly thin wall.

In the darkness of his box-strewn bedroom, Tim paused. Maybe moving in with a cute girl wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought.

* * *

Monday morning came all too early, most of Sunday having been spent in a half-hearted effort at unpacking and moving the last few boxes and small appliances to the apartment. Tim left just as Julie got up, emerging from her room bedraggled and running late, and shooting him a disgruntled look as he passed. He was relieved to find that Julie hadn't grown out of hating early mornings any more than he had.

The June morning had dawned bright and lovely, the air still crisp before the heat of the day. Tim had slept soundly all weekend, too tired each night to dream. He drove to the high school with his window unrolled, a cigarette grasped loosely in one hand, and felt a foreign sense of peace settle into him.

Classes were over and Smitty was on vacation, so few staff were at the school that day. Tim spent most of the morning tuning up his riding mower, which was older than dirt and required a lot of attention in order to run. He was nearly finished and considering a break for lunch when he heard a throat being cleared behind him.

Coach stood in the doorway to the small garage where Tim worked, his crossed arms silhouetted by the bright midday sunlight behind him.

"Morning, Coach," Tim offered, standing slowly and wiping his greasy hands off on a nearby rag.

Coach didn't reply, his gaze hopping restlessly around the garage for a moment before landing back on Tim. "How'd things go this weekend? Julie won't talk to me."

"Good," Tim replied. "Got everything moved in. Now we just gotta unpack, I guess."

Coach nodded. "The place is nice? The neighbourhood's safe?"

"Yeah, the neighbourhood's just fine. We haven't really run into the neighbours yet, but the place is nice. Nothing fancy, but it's nice," Tim paused for a beat. "You should come on over and see it, you and Mrs. Taylor."

Coach levelled him with a fierce, threatening sort of stare. "Riggins, I swear, if you so much as lay a hand on her, I'll have you fired so fast your head will spin," he said, taking a step closer. It came out of nowhere, but Tim knew he was dead serious, and nodded once before looking down at the floor.

"Can I ask you something, Coach?" Eric nodded tightly, and Tim continued. "Have I ever done anything to make you think I'd hurt Jules?"

His expression loosened abruptly and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No," he said tersely.

"I screwed up," Tim continued. "I never said I didn't. But I wouldn't have hurt her before, and that hasn't changed. I'm sorry I lost your trust. Just... Don't take it out on Jules, all right? She's just trying to get by, is all."

Coach stared at him a beat longer, then turned and walked straight out of the garage.

Tim watched him go, removing his hat and scratching his head. It was hard to say whether that had gone well or not, in the end.

* * *

They spent most of that first week slowly unpacking, arranging and rearranging every piece of furniture in the apartment until they (or Julie, really, as Tim's only commentary on each different layout was a careless shrug) were satisfied. Every evening they came home from work and put away books and dishes and clothes and DVDs over cheap beer and pizza, so that by the time the weekend arrived, Julie was sure she would never crave Mediterranean veggie pizza with extra cheese ever again.

On Saturday, they both slept late. Julie got up first and attempted to eat a bowl of cereal, only to find that they had no soy milk and she had no idea where the spoons had ended up. She knew they were in a shoebox somewhere, but that was about all she knew. She was eating dry cereal on the couch when Tim emerged from his bedroom, shirtless and extremely dishevelled.

"Nice hair," Julie remarked as she channel-surfed, her mood brightening when she landed on_ Mean Girls_. Tim's long, unruly hair was that much more unruly after a long sleep.

"Nice breakfast," Tim replied gruffly, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Julie stared at them and considered telling him to put them where they belonged, on the floor, but all she could hear was her mother's voice saying the same thing. She decided to overlook it.

"I think we need to go grocery shopping," Julie said. "I can't deal with any more pizza. Do you want to do that later?"

"Soon as I'm awake, yeah."

Two hours later, Julie stood in the freezer aisle at the grocery store, silently wishing she had just gone on her own and left Tim to his own devices. She stared in probably very obvious judgment as he dumped a stack of frozen microwave pizzas into the cart.

"I don't think that even really counts as food," Julie opined as she pushed the cart in the direction of the produce section.

Tim shrugged. "You eat it, don't you?"

"Maybe _you_ do," Julie sniffed, "but I don't really plan on it."

"You're not gonna try to make me eat peas or something, are you?" Tim asked suspiciously.

"I try to pick my battles, and I think that's one I'm going to skip," Julie replied.

"Probably smart," Tim said with a smile.

Later, once they'd returned to the apartment with their haul and managed to find room in the kitchen for everything, they turned to the last few boxes crowding up the living room. Julie opened an unmarked box of Tim's and discovered his modest collection of books. She hauled them out, stacking them on the coffee table so she could have a look at them.

"_The Portable Steinbeck_?" Julie read aloud, grabbing the stout, thick text off the top of the pile.

"Yeah," Tim replied absently from the kitchen, where he was unpacking a box of dishes. When he didn't elaborate, Julie continued.

"I didn't think you were much of a reader," she said, setting aside the anthology and examining the next,_ The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_.

"Not a whole lot to do in prison," Tim mused. Julie glanced over at him. He was placing the old coffee mugs her mother had given her – kitschy ones with things like _Number One Dad_, _Longview Credit Union _and _If Football Were Easy, They'd Call It Soccer_ printed on them – in one of the cupboards.

Julie picked up the little stack of books and began placing them in the short bookcase she had found at a garage sale the week before, which now occupied the wall between their bedroom doors. She couldn't help but arrange them in alphabetical order, by author, exactly how she had arranged her own books in her bedroom. She ran her index finger down the cracked spine of one paperback, tracing the letters of the title, _Sackett_. Curious, she pulled it out, her eyes skimming the blurb on the back cover.

"_All he'd wanted was enough to buy a ranch, but he soon learned that gold had ways of its own with men_," she read aloud. "Louis L'Amour. You like westerns – why doesn't that surprise me?"

There was a pause so long that Julie wondered if Tim had heard her. "Are you gonna help me put all this kitchen junk away or are just gonna sit there making fun of my books?" Tim asked finally, his tone so flat that Julie couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. She replaced the book and stood, picking up another box of dishes and carrying it into the kitchen as she did so. Placing the box on the counter and removing the newspaper-wrapped dinner plates within, Julie looked over at Tim.

"I wasn't making fun of your books," she said, feeling guilty and somewhat defensive. "I'm just one of those people who likes to check out other people's bookshelves, their DVD and music collections... You know? I've even been known to snoop in a few medicine cabinets," she finished, hoping to get a laugh. She saw the corner of Tim's mouth quirk slightly, and knew he wasn't actually upset.

"Isn't that just called being nosy?" Tim asked.

Julie scoffed. "My ex-boyfriend would agree with you. He said I liked to pick people apart so I could find something to criticize."

"Is that true?"

"Pretty much," Julie laughed. "I guess I like to know what's going on. I thought that would make me a good journalist someday. Stupid, really."

"Probably would make you a good journalist."

"Thanks," Julie said, freeing a glass from its newsprint wrappings. Neither of them spoke for several moments, working in silence side by side until all the dishes were finally put away. "Have you ever read anything by Larry McMurtry?" Julie asked as she closed the cupboard before her.

"Don't think so."

"I think you'd like some of his stuff. They're Westerns. I think my dad has a copy of _Lonesome Dove_. I'll find it for you next time I'm home, if you want."

Tim said nothing. He merely nodded and smiled, almost to himself. Almost like Julie wasn't even in the room.

* * *

It was a Wednesday afternoon when Julie arrived home from work to find Tim standing shirtless in their little kitchen, frowning down at a roasting pan with a rack of ribs sitting in it. He glanced at her over the breakfast bar. "Hey," he said, reaching for a shaker of salt.

"What are you up to?" Julie asked, dumping the mail on the kitchen table.

"Barbecuing."

"We have a barbecue?" Julie asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, Billy got it for me – go check it out."

Julie went out onto their small balcony, and was surprised to find one end of it taken up by a small green barbecue, which was smoking away merrily. Julie lifted the lid to see a rack of ribs already on the grill, slathered in copious amounts of barbecue sauce, dripping down to flare up on the hot coals below.

"I'm no barbecue expert, but I think you're doing it wrong," Julie remarked, re-entering the apartment and closing the sliding door behind her. "Did you do a dry rub? This is Texas. Whatever happened to 'low and slow'? People in Dillon have been executed for much less."

"I'm hungry," Tim grumbled. "Anyway, I'm mopping it. It's not a real sauce."

"Fair enough," Julie smiled. She sat down at the table, leaning her chin tiredly on one hand. "You know, you could have just gone out to eat. I've heard Ray's has pretty good barbecue."

"He does," Tim nodded. "But I wanted to cook for once. I feel bad 'cause you keep cooking stuff and leaving leftovers in the fridge and I keep eating them."

"I don't mind," Julie replied with a shrug. "That's what they're there for."

"How do you like your ribs?" Tim asked. "Saucy or extra saucy?"

Julie smiled sheepishly. "I guess this is a bad time to tell you I'm a vegetarian."

"Seriously?"

"You didn't notice all the veggie pizza, huh?"

"Kinda, but... Damn."

Julie grinned at the crestfallen look on Tim's face. "It's not a big deal. I have veggie burgers in the freezer."

Tim said nothing, although his dubious expression spoke volumes. Julie stood up and went to change out of her work clothes, returning a minute later to find the living room empty. Tim was out on the balcony, babying his ribs and smoking a cigarette. Julie stood for a moment and watched him as he closed the barbecue lid and stretched, drawing her eyes to the lean muscles of his back. Flushed, Julie turned towards the kitchen to start making a salad, knowing she'd be the only one eating it.

Julie had her salad ready to eat and was pulling a veggie burger out of the freezer when Tim came back inside.

"I think I burned myself," Tim grumbled, wandering back into the kitchen and putting the roasting pan in the sink.

"Wearing a shirt might help," Julie replied.

"I'm all out."

"Oh. Do you want to go to the Laundromat later? I have a load I need to do."

"Sure," Tim shrugged. They ate dinner in front of the TV, something Julie was just getting used to again. With her family, meals were always eaten together at the table. It was nice to be lazy and eat on the couch. It reminded her of living with Nate, of getting beer and Thai food and falling asleep together while watching old movies on TCM.

Julie sighed, picking listlessly at her food. She felt fine until these sorts of memories returned to her. Masochistically, she tried to imagine what Nate was doing right now. He'd spent the previous summer interning at a local independent newspaper, and he'd planned to do the same again this summer. She wondered if he'd gotten a new apartment. She wondered if he was seeing someone.

It wasn't that she longed for Nate, exactly – the longer she was away from him, the less she found she felt for him. No, it was her life with Nate she missed. She longed for the quirky variety of the city, the feeling that she was truly living her life. In comparison, life in Dillon felt like one long, sleepy Sunday afternoon.

Tim turned the TV off and Julie felt his eyes on her. She looked up to find him observing her, an inscrutable, curious expression on his face.

"Come on," he said. "You wanna stop and get something from the Alamo Freeze first?"

Julie regarded him silently for a moment, then giving herself a firm shake, smiled and followed him.

* * *

"How's work going?" Julie asked from her perch atop the washer which was presently scrubbing a load of her dark clothes. With all the activity of the last several weeks, the subject of work had gone completely overlooked.

"Good," Tim replied, leaning a hip against the washer she sat on and crossing his arms over his chest. "I like the work, and the people are good. Might be kind of a pain when school starts again, with kids all over the place, but whatever."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Tim's washer buzzed, and he leaned over to begin transferring his clean work clothes to a nearby dryer.

"Is it weird, looking after the field when you used to play on it?" Julie pulled her legs up onto the washer so she could sit cross-legged.

Tim shot her a look, like he found her wannabe-journalist questions amusing, but would indulge her anyway. "A little. It's not like I played on that exact field. It's just a football field. It's so different from Hermann Field, I barely even notice, to be honest."

Julie nodded, sensing he was going to continue. After a pause and a shrug, he did.

"It just sucks that there's not more money in the budget, you know? The whole place could look tons better, but the program just doesn't have the cash the Panthers do," Tim said, closing the dryer door and turning the dial. The machine began to rumble crankily.

"It's cool that you take pride in your work," Julie said, after a contemplative pause of her own. She took a sip of her chocolate Swizzler and sighed. "My job's good, but really it's just answering phones, filing, dealing with the waiting room. That kind of thing. I wish I could feel like I was having an impact. You know?"

"I bet you are, even if you can't really see how," Tim responded. "I know if I was going to the doctor, I'd rather walk in there and see you behind the counter than basically anyone else."

"Gee, thanks," Julie smiled, whacking him on the arm with her free hand. "Next time you're due for a pap smear, come on over."

The bug-eyed grimace on Tim's face doubled her over with laughter, and Julie stopped only when her washer stopped cycling with a rusty thump. She hopped off the machine and began piling her clothes into the nearest free dryer.

It didn't last, however, for a moment later, as she closed the dryer and turned the dial, she glanced over to find Tim staring at her.

"_Pap smear_," he repeated incredulously, shaking his head like he couldn't believe she would inflict even the thought of such a thing on him.

Julie fell into hysterics once again, which continued until the manager of the Laundromat came over and told them that if they didn't settle down, he would have to ask them both to leave.

All things considered, Julie figured the look on Tim's face had been well worth it.

* * *

"So seriously, bro – how's it going?"

"Not bad," Tim shrugged. "Work's good."

The two Riggins brothers were sharing a couple of beers on the edge of the empty swimming pool in Billy's back yard. Night was falling, and mosquitoes were emerging from the cool shade of the untended shrubs that bordered the yard, disturbed by Skeeter as he patrolled the underbrush. Mindy was inside, trying with limited success to wrangle Stevie and Kaitlyn into bed for the night.

Billy tipped his beer bottle up and took a swig. "Yeah, but how are things going with Julie?"

"Fine," Tim replied. "She's as good a roommate as you can ask for, really. Better than the others I've had."

Billy rolled his eyes, not taking the bait. "Sure, but I mean, you know... You two done it yet?"

Tim turned sharply and glared at his brother. "It's not like that."

"Yeah, but you like her, though, right?"

"I like her fine. We're friends."

Billy shrugged. "Just wondering. I wasn't sure if you'd gotten any since getting out."

Tim looked down at the beer bottle held loosely in his hands. "I don't think it's a good idea for me to be getting into a relationship right now, Billy."

"Shit, who said anything about a relationship? Head down to the bar, pick up a girl – what's hard about that? Get back in the game, man."

"Yeah," Tim replied mildly, taking a swig of his beer. He couldn't think of anything he wanted less than what Billy suggested. He changed the subject to major league baseball and the local football prospects, and Billy let it go.

Later, Tim drove home the long way, lulled by the painted street lines passing under his truck and the bright lights along the main drag, dimming one by one.

That night, he dreamed of hot sunshine and open roads, and of the way the corners of Julie's eyes crinkled when she laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hell is yourself, and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person._

Tennessee Williams

At the end of June, Julie closed the clinic on her own for the first time. Although Mrs. Williams had closed things down when she finished for the night, she left Julie her extra set of keys, as Julie was behind on her filing that day and wanted to catch things up before heading home.

Happy to work alone and free of interruptions, Julie turned on the radio, singing along as she filed paperwork and returned the day's charts to their rightful place in the filing cabinets that banked the wall behind the reception desk. She had been working steadily for half an hour and was thinking about heading home when she heard an odd sound.

She glanced around, trying to identify it. When she heard it again and she could not identify the source, she stood and came around the desk into the reception area. There she spotted the culprit – a girl was standing on the other side of the front door, leaning against the glass.

Julie frowned. The hours of the clinic were clearly marked on the door, and the place was dark and rather obviously closed. She watched as the girl stood up straight and turned in a small circle as if unsure where she was going. She was young, sixteen at the most, and pretty, her long strawberry blond hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She wore an ill-fitting pair of sweats and a hoodie with _PANTHER VOLLEYBALL_ emblazoned on its blue fabric in bright gold lettering.

Julie approached the door and unlocked it, pulling it open slightly. The girl spun around to face her, her hands clasping her elbows nervously.

"I need to talk to someone," she said. Her face was scrubbed free of make-up, and her green eyes were red and puffy.

"Oh," Julie replied. "Tonight's not actually a drop-in night, but you can make an appoint -"

"I'm sorry," the girl said, her voice breaking. Her eyes welled up with tears and she blinked fiercely. "It's just, it's pretty much an emergency, you know?"

"It's okay," Julie said, opening the door wide enough to let the girl in. "Um, here, why don't you come in and sit down?"

The girl sat down on the nearest chair in the waiting area, dropping her head into her hands, her shoulders shuddering with silent sobs. Julie hovered anxiously in the middle of the room, unsure what to do. Biting her lip, she grabbed a box of tissues off the reception counter and went to the girl, sitting down beside her and offering her the box.

Lifting her tear-stained face, the girl took a tissue and dabbed at the tracks of mascara running down her cheeks. "Thanks," she said softly.

Julie nodded. "My name's Julie. What's yours?"

"Alexis," she replied, sniffing as she tried to control her tears. "I'm pregnant."

"Okay." Julie stared at the girl's downturned head, trying to figure out how to handle this. She hadn't been trained in any counselling whatsoever; she was just the receptionist. How would her mother handle this?

The girl sighed, sitting up and brushing her hair out of her face. "So there aren't any counsellors in right now?"

"No. I'm sorry – I was just closing up, actually."

Alexis nodded. "I should have called before I came, but I just looked up the address and had to come before I changed my mind. I guess... I guess I've been in denial for a while. Tonight it hit me. This is really happening, whether I ignore it or not. It's stupid, I know."

Julie said nothing. She had no idea what to say anyway, but it occurred to her that the better thing to do might be to listen, rather than to talk. That's what her mother would say.

"My boyfriend and I broke up weeks ago," Alexis continued, her restless fingers shredding the damp tissue balled in her hands. "Things weren't... He wasn't a very good boyfriend." She gave a shaky laugh and glanced at Julie in a tough, defensive way that reminded her suddenly of Tyra. "So I'm not a slut, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't," Julie said earnestly.

Alexis nodded, looking down and abruptly seeming vulnerable again. "I don't know what to do. What would you do?"

Julie swallowed. You probably weren't supposed to answer that kind of question, but she didn't know what else to do. "I guess... Well, I guess I'd find out everything I could about my options, and then just try to make a decision that makes the most sense for me." She paused, considering this. "It's not what I would do that matters. What matters is that you do what you need to do. Nobody else gets to tell you what to do, here. Nobody else has walked in your shoes."

Alexis nodded again, meeting Julie's eyes. They welled with tears, and she trembled. "I'm really scared."

"I know," Julie replied. "I would be, too." She felt Alexis's hand brush against hers, and, without hesitating, took it in hers. They sat together in silence, until Alexis was able to stop crying.

Julie wished so much that she was more capable, that she knew how to help this girl. But she didn't. All she could do was listen, and shuffle enough appointments around so that Alexis could get in to see a counsellor the following afternoon.

She saw Alexis safely into her car with a handful of pamphlets before locking the clinic up for the night. It figured that the first time she closed the place down on her own would be the time something like this would happen.

Driving home, she tried to make sense of the rush of emotions she felt; most of all the intense feeling of helplessness in the face of someone else's suffering.

"You're kinda late," Tim observed from the couch as she let herself into the apartment. He sat watching _Sports Center_, a beer perched on his thigh.

Julie came over and sat down on the other end of the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest. Baseball highlights flickered across the screen, casting the dark room in weird blue light.

"I think I figured out why I didn't want to stay in Berkeley and wait around, hoping to get into grad school," Julie said, after a long pause.

"Yeah?" Tim replied, his eyes not moving from the TV.

"Yeah. I think I was done with books and seminars and theory. I wanted to do something real, something that actually means something, that actually helps people."

Tim nodded and took a sip of his beer. He was silent for a beat, and then he glanced at her. "Took you that long to figure that out, huh?"

Julie snorted a laugh, running a tired hand over her face. "There's no need to be smug about it."

"It's pretty obvious to anyone who knows you, or your parents, that you were gonna do big things," Tim shrugged.

"I don't automatically have to be just like my parents," Julie grumped.

"Didn't say you did. Just saying you come by it honestly, that's all."

Julie said nothing, and several minutes passed before either of them spoke again.

"You want some ice cream?" Tim asked.

"Yes," Julie replied, surprised at the lump suddenly in her throat.

Tim stood and walked into the kitchen, returning with a pint of cookies 'n cream and two spoons. He resumed his position, placing the container between them and handing her a spoon. Julie reached over and scooped up a huge spoonful of ice cream, which she immediately stuck in her mouth. Her eyes watered, and she began to cry.

"Thanks," she said hoarsely. "It's really good."

Tim turned and looked at her for a long moment, before clearing his throat and looking back to the TV. "No problem. You wanna watch something else?"

"No, this is fine."

They sat watching sports highlights and eating in silence until the ice cream was gone and late-night infomercials were all that was on. Tim turned off the TV, and they both went to bed.

The next morning, when she got to work, Julie asked Mrs. Williams what she needed to do to get certified as a birth control and pregnancy crisis counsellor.

* * *

"You really sure about this, sweetie?" Tami asked. "I mean, you've thought it through?"

Julie was home having dinner with her parents for the first time since moving out. Her father wasn't home yet, but she had spent the last hour or so catching up with her mom over iced tea on the back patio. Julie had just finished explaining how she chose her new career path, and Tami was eyeing her with obvious concern.

"Sure about what?"

"Are you sure you want to get into crisis counselling like that? I mean, answering the phones at the clinic is one thing, but the actual counselling is another. There are people in this town who really aren't okay with it," Tami said.

"It's not like we even do those kinds of procedures at the clinic," Julie replied. "All we do is provide information and resources."

"I know that, hon. I know that. But not everyone around here knows or cares. Believe me."  
Julie looked down, remembering the horrible fall-out four years ago when Tami was practically crucified by some people in town.

"Do you regret what you did?" Julie asked. "Would you go back and change anything?"

Tami looked at her askance, and then smiled wryly. "No. I wouldn't change one single thing."

Julie laughed. "That's kinda what I figured."

"I'm proud of you," Tami admitted. "It's not always easy to be true to yourself, to try to do what you believe is the right thing."

"Thanks," Julie replied, touched. She felt proud of herself, too. It had been a while since she had felt that way.

The sound of an engine around the front of the house interrupted their conversation.

"That'll be Gracie and your father." Tami stood up from her favourite deck chair, stretching stiffly and grabbing her iced tea. "Let's go see if we're sticking with spaghetti and salad for dinner, or if he caved to Gracie's demands for pizza."

Julie followed her mother into the house, where they found Eric and Gracie unpacking two brown paper bags of take-out from Fran's onto the dining room table. Gracie was decked out in her green and yellow soccer gear, her dark blond hair coming loose from the high ponytail at the back of her head.

"What happened to spaghetti and salad?" Julie asked, closing the patio door behind them.

"What happened is that Gracie Belle Taylor, here, scored _two _goals in her soccer game, one of them the winning goal. So we're celebrating," her father replied, ruffling Gracie's hair fondly.

"Wow!" Tami exclaimed, opening her arms to hug Gracie. "That's fantastic, sweetie!"

"Very cool, baby sis," Julie smiled. Gracie beamed.

"Y'all sit down so we can start this celebration," Tami said. She walked into the kitchen and began gathering drinks and plates. "I made a salad for tonight, and we're all still having some – no complaining!"

They all took their seats and began passing food around as Tami rejoined them. "Gracie, didn't you have something you wanted to ask Jules, since she's here?"

Piling Greek salad onto her plate, Julie looked up to see her sister watching her shyly. "What's up, Gracie?"

Gracie glanced over at Tami, who nodded, then looked back at Julie. "Mom said that I have to ask you, but if you say it's okay, I can come over to your house for a sleepover."

Julie smiled, casting her mother a look. Tami was looking on innocently, eyebrows raised. "Of course you can come over for a sleepover," Julie replied. "The only thing is, I live with a boy. Do you think you can put up with the cooties for one night?"

Giggling, Gracie nodded. Her father cleared his throat, and Julie caught the silent discussion going on between her parents. Obviously her father wasn't on board with the sleepover idea.

"Well, now that that's settled, let's eat!" Tami said cheerfully.

Eric shot Tami a look, but said nothing, and their conversation quickly turned away from the subjects of sleepovers and roommates.

Later, when Julie was helping her mother clean up in the kitchen and her father was watching game tape in the living room, Julie brought it up again.

"Gracie has been just insufferable since you moved out and we told her that you were living in your own apartment with no grown-ups," Tami said, with an accompanying roll of her eyes. "Hope you don't mind that I just offered it up like that."

Julie laughed. "No, it's fine. It'll be fun. It's nice to spend time with Gracie; she grew up so much while I was away at school." She paused, loading the last dishes into the dishwasher. "Are you sure Dad's okay with it, though?"

"Don't worry about your father," Tami replied with a sigh. "He'll come around. You'll see."

"Ah. So he's still mad?"

"He's not mad, sweetheart, he's just... He's just hurt, I think, and honestly, I don't think it has anything to do with you at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I can't speak for him, but between you and me, he had a real hard time with it when Tim went to prison."

"Oh," Julie replied, staring down at the counter. "I guess I never really thought about it that way."

"Your dad's a lot more sensitive than he lets on, especially when it comes to those boys of his," Tami said wryly. "Like I said – give him time."

Julie nodded before turning away to wipe down the counter. Abruptly she recalled the conversation she had with Tim a few weeks earlier. "Hey mom?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Does Dad have a copy of_ Lonesome Dove_ I could borrow?"

* * *

Most mornings, Tim woke to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, interspersed with occasional outbursts of singing as Julie went through her morning routine. On this particular Wednesday morning, Julie was singing something Tim didn't recognize in a low, off-key voice. Groaning, Tim rolled out of bed and, unable to use the bathroom, padded stiffly into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. While it percolated, Tim walked out onto the balcony to have a cigarette. He left the door open, since half the pleasure of coffee was in the smell of it being made. He was making his way back to the kitchen when Julie emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, her hair piled up in a towel on her head and a short purple linen bathrobe wrapped around her body.

"I made coffee," Tim said. His heart jumped into his throat as Julie wandered into the kitchen. It was a_ really _short robe. When she stretched up to grab a coffee mug from the cupboard, it hiked up to reveal long, tanned dancer's legs.

Julie stood next to him at the counter and poured herself a cup, humming happily as she stirred soy milk into it. "Thanks," she said, smiling sleepily up at him.

Tim nodded, standing there looking down at her. Her tanned skin was flushed from her shower, and she had a light smattering of freckles across her nose. Her long, dark eyelashes fanned against her skin as she looked down at her coffee and then back up at him, curiously. Realising he was staring, Tim cleared his throat and turned away to find a cereal bowl, busying himself with carrying his breakfast to the table in order to avoid looking at her. What was wrong with him? Mindy had paraded around the house in skimpier get-ups all the time and Tim had never taken any notice.

Julie toasted a bagel, pouring herself more coffee before joining him at the table. They ate in silence, Tim reading the back of the cereal box and Julie flipping through the newspaper. Julie was halfway through her bagel when she waved an impatient hand in the air at him, hurrying to swallow. "I just remembered – Gracie's coming over for a sleepover on Friday night. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, no prob," Tim shrugged. "We can rent a movie, get a pizza or something. She like pizza?"

Julie gaped at him for a moment. "No, I mean, I was just letting you know, in case you were planning on having company or something. You don't have to hang out with us."

"Oh. Well, if you don't mind..." Tim trailed off, shrugging again.

"No, of course not! I just figured... I didn't think you'd want to, I guess," Julie stammered. "But you're more than welcome to join us."

"All right," Tim said, nodding. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. If Julie had wanted to spend time alone with Gracie, he wasn't sure where he would have gone. Billy's, he supposed. That or the bar. He hadn't had much interest in going since getting out of prison, much to his surprise, and his conversation with Billy hadn't spurred him on any. Something about dark, crowded places and the push of strangers' bodies left him cold in a way it never had before.

Julie finished her breakfast and disappeared into her bedroom to dress for work. Tim made use of the unoccupied bathroom while he could, halfway through shaving when he heard the front door open and close as Julie left.

Tim made his way back to his bedroom, searching around his floor for an at least semi-clean work shirt. As he looked, something caught his eye.

On his pillow was a dog-eared paperback copy of _Lonesome Dove_. Tim picked it up and thumbed the soft pages. He flipped the book open to find something written inside the front cover in faded blue ink – Coach's name, and an old address in Plano.

Tim smiled, and put the book down on his nightstand before turning away to get dressed.

* * *

On Friday afternoon, Julie picked Gracie up from daycare right after work, and they drove to the Taylors' to pick up Gracie's overnight bag. It was her very first sleepover, and the little girl was nearly vibrating with excitement by the time Julie pulled into her parking spot at the apartment and led Gracie up the outdoor staircase.

Julie got changed out of her work clothes while Gracie sat on her bed, thumping her heels against the metal bed frame and chattering happily about her day, which had included a hilarious mishap with the wet sand table which, Julie decided, you must have had to witness to truly appreciate.

They were stretched out on their stomachs on the living room floor, well into their second round of Candyland, when Julie heard Tim's truck outside. He came in the door a minute later, arms loaded with snacks, drinks, a case of beer, and a bag from the local video store.

"Hey!" Julie greeted him, hopping up. She grabbed the case of beer and a bag containing ice cream and soda off his hands. "What's all this?"

"I figured you girls might want something to hold you over until dinner, and maybe something to snack on later," Tim replied, sending a wink to Gracie, who smiled and sat up. Tim looked at Julie and lowered his voice. "Thought I might want a beer or two at some point, too."

"Good thinking," Julie laughed, marvelling at him. Tim was so unpredictable. He went through long periods of distant, almost sullen behaviour, but at other times he could be amenable and downright playful. Julie wasn't ever sure which Tim she was going to find herself with. "Why don't I go put this stuff away, and you and Gracie can have a look at the pizza menu."

"Sure," Tim said agreeably. "I just need to change." Leaving the last of his haul on the table, he walked into the bedroom, pulling his grey and red East Dillon t-shirt over his head as he went. Julie caught more than a glimpse of his lean, tanned back before she pulled her gaze away, blushing.

"Let's go find that pizza menu," Julie said breezily to Gracie, carrying the junk food into the kitchen. She was going to have to say something to Tim about closing the door before disrobing.

* * *

Several hours, two pizzas, two pints of ice cream, and a double feature of _The Princess and the Frog_ and _The Incredibles _later, the three of them were stretched out on the couch as the credits for the latter movie rolled.

"She's beat," Julie said softly, trying not to wake Gracie. It was a challenge, given that the little girl had fallen fast asleep wedged between her and Tim, her head pillowed on Julie's thigh.

Wordlessly, Tim eased himself away from Gracie and, with gentleness Julie knew she shouldn't be surprised at, scooped her up. Julie stood, stretching, and followed them, pointing silently to her bedroom when Tim looked back at her for direction. He carried her into Julie's bedroom and stepped aside to let Julie tuck her sister in. Gracie barely seemed to take notice of the whole affair, her only reaction to being carried a small frown which did not disturb her sleep.

Julie lit a small reading lamp on her desk as a makeshift nightlight, and they both left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

"She's a sound sleeper, huh?" Tim observed as Julie followed him back to the couch.

"Yeah, it looks like we managed to wear her out," Julie replied. She sighed and looked around at the messy living room, which was littered with ice cream bowls and plates of half-eaten pizza, not to mention the abandoned game of Candyland.

"Don't worry about the mess," Tim said, settling back down on the couch and picking up the remote. "We can clean it up tomorrow."

Julie was going to object on the basis that cleaning up sticky ice cream bowls was only going to be more loathsome in the morning, but stopped herself. Tim looked content enough; maybe there was something to his laid-back laziness after all.

"This is the best movie ever made," Tim intoned seriously, interrupting her thoughts. He had channel-surfed his way one of the late movies, which in this case was _Road House_.

At that, Julie nearly abandoned him in favour of bed. But there was something in his expression as he smiled faintly at the TV made her want to draw their evening out a little longer.

"You want some popcorn?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied, not removing his gaze from the screen. With a roll of her eyes, she made her way into the kitchen and made a bag of microwave popcorn. It wasn't as good as her dad's popcorn, which – both of her parents being staunch popcorn purists – he always made in a pot on the stove, with oil and butter and way too much salt. Microwave popcorn would have to do for now.

She grabbed herself another soda and carried her haul back into the living room. Placing the popcorn between them, she sat down on the other end of the couch from Tim.

"Thanks," Tim muttered, frown of concentration firmly in place as the action on the screen began to intensify.

"This is your favourite movie? Seriously?" Julie asked, before shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth. She feared she was starting to pick up Tim's less-than-stellar table manners.

"Were you expecting _The Shawshank Redemption_ or something?"

Julie sputtered for a moment before glancing over to find Tim smiling at her, amused. "I don't know, it's just..." Julie gestured helplessly at the TV as Patrick Swayze delivered another roundhouse kick to a bad guy's head. At least he was shirtless, she supposed.

"Just what?"

"I just think that its narrative is clichéd, and that it lacks subtlety," she deadpanned.

"You've only seen like two minutes of it," Tim protested.

"Oh no, I've seen _Road House_ in its entirety, believe me. My dad loves crappy old action movies."

"_Road House_ is not crappy." A sulk crept into Tim's voice.

"All right, all right," Julie grumbled. "I'll stop insulting your precious movie."

They both fell silent, and Julie was drawn into the story despite herself. She was so absorbed that she almost forgot to eat her popcorn, and jumped in surprise when she reached over for a handful and encountered Tim's hand.

"Sorry," Julie squeaked, pulling her hand back and looking over at him. Tim was fast asleep, his head lolling against the back of the couch and his hand resting in the popcorn bowl. Julie smiled. She wasn't surprised – Tim worked hard during the week, and by the time Friday came around, he was usually exhausted. She removed his hand from the popcorn and set the bowl on the coffee table.

"Tim?" she asked softly, reaching over and touching his upper arm very gently. He frowned in his sleep, and his far hand came up and grasped hers, holding it to his chest. Julie stared in wonder at this odd gesture, shocked into stillness. As she watched, his frown deepened, and his eyes slowly opened to regard her with some confusion.

"Hey," she said. "You fell asleep."

Tim blinked and inhaled a deep breath. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice gruff. He glanced down at their clasped hands on his chest. His hand loosened, and Julie pulled hers away, although she felt strangely reluctant to do so.

"It's okay," she said, standing. "Night, Tim."

Julie turned and walked into her bedroom, closing the door with a click. She rested her forehead against the fabricated wood, sighing deeply. Turning around and leaning on the door, Julie watched her little sister sleeping in the muted light of the desk lamp. She cupped one hand in the other in front of her, staring down at her upturned palms.

The hand Tim had held in his tingled where their skin had touched.

* * *

Tim awoke the next morning to the sound of cartoons floating through the thin walls. He heard Gracie's high-pitched giggle, followed by Julie's lower voice. Groaning tiredly, he turned over and blinked as the filtered sunlight shining through his window hit him in the eye. He winced, wondering why he was so tired. Then he remembered falling asleep on the couch in the middle of the movie, passing out cold until the warmth of Julie's hand woke him. He remembered her hand in his.

Slowly, Tim stretched and sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. Eventually he made himself stand up, shuffling his way out of his bedroom and hoping that Julie had made coffee. He was in luck – the living room was permeated with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the pancakes Julie was apparently making.

"Morning," he greeted the room at large as he made his way to the bathroom. When he emerged, Gracie was perched on the edge of the couch, watching the bathroom door.

"Morning!" she called, grinning at him, her high voice all sunshine.

Tim made his way into the kitchen, where Julie was carefully flipping several pancakes studded with what looked like blueberries.

"She always this cheerful in the morning?" Tim asked, moving around Julie to get to the coffeemaker while trying to ignore the pleasing way the skimpy tank-top and shorts she wore hugged her curves.

"Yes, unfortunately," Julie replied, her voice scratchy with tiredness. She sighed and stood on one foot, turning to look at him. "Would blueberry pancakes help?"

Tim frowned, pretending to consider this. "Yeah, I think so," he said finally, lifting his full coffee mug to his mouth. Julie smiled.

"Thanks," she said. "I owe you one for being so tolerant last night."

Dropping the act, Tim shrugged. "It's not a big deal. At least she's not in diapers anymore," he said, peering over her shoulder at the pancakes. "No bacon?"

Julie shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't cook dead pig. Not even for very tolerant, very sweet roommates."

Tim nodded, turning away before Julie could see how much her comment pleased him. He thought brownie points might actually be better than bacon. He padded into the living room, sitting down on the couch next to Gracie. "What are we watching, Gracie Belle?"

"It's _Grace_," she said exasperatedly, his insistence on calling her by her full name and her perturbation having become something of a game between them. "We're watching _cartoons_."

"Gotcha," Tim nodded. He took a sip of his coffee and tried to focus on the bright colours and shapes flashing across the screen. He was dying for a cigarette, but had been trying to avoid smoking in front of Gracie, same as he had done for Stevie and Kaitlyn.

"Okay," Julie said from the kitchen. "How many pancakes do you want, Gracie?"

"Twelve!" Gracie suggested, trying to stifle her giggles.

"That'll happen," Julie replied sarcastically, emerging from the kitchen with two plates in hand. "Why don't we start with two and see how we go from there?" Tim was about to stand up to get himself some pancakes when Julie pushed one of the plates she carried at him.

"I coulda gotten it," he said, taking the overloaded plate from her.

"I know," she smiled, giving a little shrug before heading back into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with her own plate, as well as cutlery for each of them, which she handed out. Gracie and Tim scooted down to make room for her on the couch, Julie taking a seat next to Tim.

"Dig in," she urged, balancing her plate on her knees.

"We're eating _here_, in front of the TV?" Gracie squeaked, looking from her sister to Tim in shock.

"Yup," Julie replied, cutting into her short stack of pancakes. "It's our secret, though – don't tell mom or dad we didn't eat at a table."

"I won't!" Gracie breathed, her expression exultant at the thought of such flagrant rule-breaking. Tim grinned, and turned to look at Julie on his other side. She smiled at him around a mouthful of pancakes.

Tim's heart gave a squeeze of longing at the expression on her face. He wondered if she knew how much simple, uncomplicated companionship she had brought to his life.

Unfortunately, for both their sakes, he was going to have to find a way to keep it uncomplicated.

* * *

The week that followed was frustrating for Julie, a string of days which had her questioning her recent choices. Mostly, it had her wondering whether she was truly prepared to confront on a daily basis the peculiarities of sex education in small town Texas.

On Thursday, Julie stormed into the apartment, nearly slamming the door behind her before remembering that they had neighbours. She closed the door instead, trying to collect herself as she leaned her back against it. Tim was sitting on the couch, watching TV, a beer resting on his thigh.

"Hey," he said absently, tipping his beer at her.

"I'm so pissed off!" she nearly shouted, throwing her bag and her keys down. She slumped against the door and sat down hard on the tile floor, her head in her hands.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked, standing up from the couch and watching her worriedly.

"This stupid town. My mom warned me, but I didn't listen." Upset as she was, Julie was barely aware of Tim coming over to her, sitting down against the wall a few inches away from her.

"What happened?"

"I can't really tell you all the details, because of privacy, but a really young girl came into the clinic today, pregnant, basically because she had no information about birth control or access to it, and she and her boyfriend were having sex anyway. It's just... This didn't have to happen, you know? It didn't. And now what's she gonna do?"

Tim didn't reply for a long moment, and then cleared his throat. "She's lucky she's got you to talk to."

"What?"

"I said whoever this girl is, she's lucky she's got you to talk to."

"Yeah," Julie scoffed, "for all the good it'll do her."

"I'm serious. What if the clinic wasn't there, if you weren't there when she came in? Someone oughta care what happens to her."

Julie glanced at him, at the earnest expression on his face as he looked at her. "Sometimes I'm not sure why I bother."

Tim nodded. "That's understandable. But you know why, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know why," Julie replied on a shaky sigh. She rested her hands against her knees, picking anxiously at her nails. "I thought I was going to _be_ someone, you know? I thought I was really going to change the world, even in just some small way."

"You are, Jules," Tim replied.

Julie glanced up at him. "I doubt that, but thanks, Tim."

He bumped his shoulder companionably against hers. "You up for a trip to the Laundromat? There's a chocolate Swizzler in it for you if you wanna come keep me company."

"Sure," Julie said. Their weekly trips to the Laundromat had become something of a tradition. Julie watched as Tim stood up, holding a hand out to help her up.

It was amazing, how quickly he could pick her mood up. Just as she was settling in for a good wallow, he provided an alternative.

Even if the alternative was laundry and cheap ice cream, Julie wasn't about to complain. Not these days.

* * *

Julie trudged through the nearly empty pharmacy, in search of tampons. She had worked much later than usual, mostly to finish the mountains of paperwork to which she was still getting accustomed. She had been so busy lately that her period took her by surprise. She had already closed up the clinic and left when she discovered that she'd started, or else she would have happily just partaken of the free pads at the clinic. Thankfully, the modern miracle of the 24-hour drug store had arrived in Dillon, so she was able to stop on her way home. Striding past the condoms with an aggravated sigh, she came to a stop in front of the wide array of feminine hygiene options available to her.

"Julie?" came a voice from behind her. Julie turned to see Becky standing in the middle of the aisle, a bag of chips and a bottle of soda in her arms.

"Hey Becky," Julie greeted her, grabbing a package of tampons off the shelf.

"Ugh," Becky commiserated, tipping her chin at Julie's intended purchase. "That sucks."

"Seriously," Julie replied with a roll of her eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. Pretty busy, I guess. You?"

"Good," Julie shrugged, starting to make her way towards the cashier. Becky fell into step beside her.

"How's Tim doing?"

"Good. You haven't talked to him?"

"Not really. He's terrible with phones," Becky said with a fond roll of her eyes.

"You should come over sometime," Julie suggested as they came to a stop at the end of the short line leading to the cashier. "I mean, even if Tim's not around, we could hang out."

"For real?" Becky asked, sounding incredulous.

"Yeah, of course. Why not?"

"I can't think of a reason," Becky replied, smiling.

"Okay, because honestly? Tim's a way better roommate than you might think, but he's a guy's guy, and sometimes I could use a break from all the belching and sports highlights, you know?" Julie said as she handed the package of tampons to the teenage clerk and began rummaging through her bag for her wallet. "I mean, my last roommate was a vegan who majored in International Peace Studies and once gave me a forty minute lecture about plastic grocery bags. Tim is a bit of a departure."

Becky giggled. "You're funny. I can see why Tim likes you so much."

"Sorry?" Julie asked, handing the clerk a handful of dollar bills and stepping aside so Becky could pay for her purchases.

"Oh nothing," Becky replied. "It's just that the last time I made him take me out for an Alamo burger, he could not shut up about how great you are and how much he liked living with you."

Julie blinked. She wasn't sure which was more unbelievable – that Tim couldn't shut up, or that he couldn't shut up about _her_. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course. He said you were smart, funny, and nice, and that living with you wasn't as weird as he thought it might be."

"Huh," Julie said, crossing her arms over her chest as Becky finished paying for her snacks. They walked out of the store together, into the muggy Texas night. Julie didn't know quite what to make of what Becky had said. She had figured Tim was happy enough, but the fact that he bothered to discuss her at length with Becky struck her as curious. "You need a ride?" she asked, retrieving her keys from her bag and heading for her car.

"No, I'm good – I've got my mom's car," Becky replied.

"Seriously, come over next week, if you're free. I could use some girl time, you know?"

"Okay," Becky agreed, nodding eagerly. "I'll call you!"

Julie waved in agreement, climbing into her car and turning on the engine. Certainly she wanted some female companionship, but she had to admit that she now had ulterior motives for spending more time with Becky. She wanted to find out exactly what Tim had to say about her.

* * *

There were times, when Tim was driving through Dillon in his truck with the windows down, the relentlessly hot Texas sun beating down on his arms, that he felt like the last four years were perhaps just a bad dream. It felt like he still had that chance at building a small life for himself, right before it blew up in his face.

Other times, like now, it was painfully obvious that the blowing up part had already happened, and that there was no going back.

Tim was standing in line at the grocery store, soy milk in hand. He'd noticed they were out this morning when, after Julie had left for work, he found the coffee untouched and a package of soy milk abandoned with obvious annoyance in the sink. With a smile, he'd decided to pick some up on his way home that day, just in case Julie forgot. It was partly because he got kind of a thrill out of making her smile, and partly because Julie without coffee was not something anyone ought to be subjected to.

Now, as he stood in the grocery line being studiously ignored by the two boosters standing directly in front of him, he wished he hadn't bothered.

He knew that they both saw him, recognized him. They'd both shaken his hand and joked with him about getting him cash and free booze and "help" with his schoolwork enough times that it would be impossible for them not to recognize him.

Never mind that he had been an integral part of helping the Panthers win their only state championship in the last 20 years, and that everyone in town knew exactly who he was, even if he had apparently ceased to exist at some point in the last four years.

Tim cleared his throat pointedly, watching as one of the boosters glanced nervously at him before shooting a look at the other booster, who shook his head slightly.

As the boosters hurriedly paid for their purchases, leaving the cashier with a heap of change in their haste to get away without having to talk to him, Tim wondered if this was how Jason felt after his life ceased to be relevant to the people of this town.

He made an unplanned stop at the first liquor store he saw, picking up the biggest case of beer he could pay for with the cash left in his pocket.

Part of him knew he shouldn't use this as an excuse to get drunk. He'd gone to the classes in prison and he wasn't stupid, anyway. He knew what it meant to have a crutch. That same part of him didn't want to subject Julie to any of this – the girl just wanted a normal roommate so she could live the life of a working girl, building a career before finding some nice guy to settle down with.

The rest of him couldn't find the energy to give a shit.

* * *

Julie arrived home exhausted, hoping that Tim had something going for dinner, because she felt way too tired to cook. She had worked late yet again, and she was ready to just veg out on the couch. When she let herself into the apartment, she was surprised to find it completely dark.

"Tim?" she called. There was no answer. Shrugging, she figured he must have gone over to Billy and Mindy's. She dumped her bag in the vicinity of the table while she groped along the wall for the light switch. When she found it and filled the room with light, she gasped in surprise at what she found.

The living room was littered with beer cans, some only half-empty and leaking onto the carpet and the coffee table. Julie took the mess in with dismay, and then anger. Could Tim be any more of a pig?

Turning, she saw his bedroom door was slightly ajar. She stomped over and pushed it open to reveal Tim, passed out cold, face-down on the bed. Exasperated, she closed the door and rubbed her temples with her forefingers. What the hell had gotten into him? Crankily, she vowed to ream him out good when he awoke, whenever that would be.

After changing into her after-work uniform of yoga pants and a t-shirt, she cleaned up all the cans and opened the balcony door to air the place out, preferring a little heat to the stale smell of beer presently permeating the apartment.

Once she had the apartment looking reasonably clean again, she headed into the kitchen to make herself some dinner – probably pasta and salad, assuming Tim hadn't sabotaged that somehow, she thought uncharitably. Flicking on the kitchen light, she saw something that surprised her – a half-gallon of her favourite vanilla soy milk sitting on the counter, beads of sweat running down the side of the plastic container.

Julie frowned. How could Tim be so sweet and so incredibly difficult, at the same time? Even more frustrating, how dare he cool her anger by being thoughtful?

Placing the soy milk in the fridge, Julie went about preparing herself some dinner, wondering if she was going to hear anything from Tim tonight, or whether he was down for the count.

She spent the rest of the evening spacing out in front of the TV before heading to bed early, several well-composed rants about Tim's slovenly behaviour filed away in the back of her mind for the next time she saw him conscious.

Julie was awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of a heavy thump from Tim's room. Groggily, she turned over in bed and listened. She heard another softer sound, and frowned.

Listening, the sound came again, and she identified it. It was moaning, and it was definitely coming from Tim's room. Instantly, her face flamed a deep red. She knew this might happen eventually; she hardly expected Tim to live like a monk, after all.

Another moan, and Julie frowned, sitting up in bed. She heard Tim's low voice mumbling on the other side of the wall, only his was the only voice. No one replied.

Tentatively, she stood and walked across the room, pressing her ear against the wall to hear better. He moaned again, and it trailed off into a strange whimper.

"Leave me alone," he grumbled, his voice muffled but insistent.

Julie abruptly pulled back from the wall. Tim was having a dream. Or maybe a nightmare, by the sound of it. She stood frozen in horror as his agitation intensified. She had no idea what to do. She felt she had no right to go barging in there to wake him, but she couldn't just ignore it, could she?

Tim groaned, and Julie left her bedroom, standing briefly outside Tim's door. A heavy thump came from the other side of the door, followed by another pained moan.

Julie did the only thing she could think of to do. She walked straight into the dark kitchen, grabbed a saucepan from where it sat in the draining board over the sink, and dropped it right in the middle of the kitchen floor. It hit the tile with a tremendous crash, rolling to whack noisily into the stove before landing on its bottom with a bang.

Julie stood frozen, shocked by the abrupt cacophony. Sure enough, barely five seconds passed before Tim's bedroom door flew open and he was standing in the middle of their living room, shirtless and dishevelled and blearily trying to clear his eyes while he flailed for a light switch.

"It's okay!" Julie called. "It was just me, sorry! I'm so clumsy; I knocked one of the pans off the counter."

"Hmph," Tim replied, squinting into the darkness. He blinked a few more times. "Never had you pegged for a klutz, Taylor," he grumbled finally. With that, he turned and disappeared, his bedroom door closing with a soft click.

Julie stared after him for a span of time which felt much longer than it was. Finally she blinked, turning to pick up the saucepan from where it lay on the floor. She placed it back on the draining board and returned to her bedroom.

She stood in her dark room and listened attentively to the absolute silence which had fallen. When she felt reasonably certain that Tim had gone back to sleep, she climbed back into her own bed and pulled the covers up to her chest.

Staring at the shadows on the ceiling, she contemplated every grim possibility of what it was, exactly, that was haunting Tim.


	5. Chapter 5

_They came to tell your faults to me,  
They named them over one by one;  
I laughed aloud when they were done.  
I knew them all so well before,-  
Oh, they were blind, too blind to see  
Your faults had made me love you more._

Sara Teasdale, "Faults"

A full day passed before Julie saw Tim again. The morning after his drinking binge, he hadn't emerged from his bedroom by the time Julie left for work. She stood in the middle of the living room, gnawing her bottom lip and trying to decide if she should wake him up or not. Finally, she concluded that she was not his mother, and getting him to work was not her job. She left enough hot coffee to get him on his feet, and set her sights on ensuring that she, at least, arrived at work on time.

Julie lingered at work that evening, not in any real hurry to get home, although she found that her frustration faded as the day wore on. Later, she arrived to find Tim asleep on the couch, his face buried in the cushions. The TV was on, a baseball game playing on the screen. She put her purse down and sighed, frowning when she caught a glimpse of the table. It was set for dinner, plates and cutlery sitting untouched.

"Hey," Tim said gruffly. Julie looked over to find him sitting up, pushing his disorderly hair out of his face.

"Hey," Julie greeted him as he stood up, coming over to meet her at the table. "What's all this?"

"I was gonna make dinner, but it didn't work out so well," he frowned, scratching his head, and Julie felt her annoyance fade further. She bit her lip to fight off the smile that threatened to spread across her face.

"It didn't work out?" she asked, hoping she sounded unimpressed.

"Not so much. I was thinking maybe I could buy you pizza, instead. Kind of a peace offering." Before she could respond, Tim continued. "I wanted to say sorry about last night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean, I woke up thinking I'd have to clean all that up, and you'd already taken care of it."

Julie shrugged, looking away. "Yeah, well, it was gross. I did it more for me than for you."

He watched her for a moment and then nodded. "Still. I'm sorry."

Julie nodded, accepting his apology. "Are you okay?"

"Been through worse," he replied, shrugging carelessly.

Julie regarded him, wondering if he even remembered having the nightmare. Certainly he didn't seem to realise that she had heard him, or wasn't going to bring it up if he did. It was just as well, she thought, for she had no idea what to say to him, anyway.

"So..." she said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down. "You said something about pizza?"

"Yeah," he replied, smiling hopefully. "You game?"

"I'm pretty hungry," she admitted with a shrug. "It's been hours since I had lunch."

Tim stood, grabbing the cordless phone off the coffee table. "Hold tight. I'm on it. Pick a movie – whatever you want."

"On my pizza, could I get –"

"Greek, no onions," Tim interrupted her, cradling the phone in his shoulder. "I know what you like on your pizza by now, Jules."

Nodding, Julie went into the kitchen to get herself a soda. She probably shouldn't have made it so easy for him to win her over, but it was clear he was sorry, and she wasn't convinced that he was as okay as he said, either.

As for the pizza, she chose not to think too hard about the fact that she'd had boyfriends who had taken longer to remember what she liked on her pizza.

No, she wasn't going to think too hard about that at all.

* * *

Becky came over the following evening with a short stack of DVDs and a shoebox filled with chocolate chip cookies she had baked. "Just for you," she said. "Don't let Tim get into them, he'll just eat them all."

The girls deliberately chose an evening when Julie knew Tim would be at Billy's, an idea which seemed to thrill Becky, as though they were breaking a rule. "He'll be so mad when he finds out," she giggled, pouring both of them a soda in the kitchen as Julie threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave. "He'll think we're talking about him!"

Julie smiled, privately thinking that Becky may be overestimating Tim's willingness to care about what other people were doing.

They popped in one of the movies, a romantic comedy, and settled into the couch with their drinks and snacks. The opening credit sequence had barely passed before Becky started talking about her job at the movie theatre and how lame it was to still be living at home, before grilling Julie about going to college in California. Soon enough, their conversation turned back to Tim, as Becky related the story of how they got to know one another, and how he was the first guy she ever loved.

"I mean _loved_," Becky insisted. "I know it sounds stupid and babyish, but I really did love him. I still do, just not the same way, you know?"

Julie nodded. "He kind of has that effect on people."

Becky turned, giving her the eagle eye. "So, do you...?"

"I care about him," Julie said deliberately, after a pause. Becky nodded.

"Tim's a really special person," she said, digging a hand into the bowl of popcorn that sat between them.

Observing the younger girl out of the corner of her eye, Julie smiled. "Yeah, I know."

"No, I mean he's a _really_ special person. He's been through a lot. I wish... I wish I could be there for him, but he doesn't want to talk about prison. Even his letters, that whole time, he could have been writing from summer camp, the way he went on. He just wrote about things he saw in magazines or on TV, or stuff I sent him, or whatever he was doing in his classes. I don't know if he was trying to protect me or what, but something happened to him in there. He's not the same as he was."

Julie froze. She thought about Tim as she'd known him in high school, easygoing, funny, protective Tim Riggins, who looked out for her and drove her to school and glowed from the inside out when Lyla Garrity loved him back. Even Julie could see that he wasn't the same.

"He was the only person who was there for me when I was going through some really hard stuff," Becky continued. "He protected me, and he supported me. He was the only reason I thought that things might turn out to be okay." Her voice trailed off softly, and Julie glanced over at her. Becky was nearly crying, her chin quivering. "Now I'm just worried that_ he's_ not going to be okay," Becky said, reaching up and wiping a tear which slid down one cheek.

"Oh, Becky," Julie sighed, reaching out a hand and touching her shoulder. The other girl turned and looked at her, and Julie opened her arms. Suddenly they were hugging, Becky's dark curls tickling Julie's nose. "I think he's going to be okay, eventually," Julie said softly. "He probably just needs some time to get on his feet, you know?"

"Yeah," Becky replied, her voice wavering. "Will you try to help him? You see him every day, I don't. I have to go back to college soon."

Julie pulled back to observe Becky's earnest face. "I... I don't know if it really works that way. I mean, you can't just fix another person, you know? It's not that simple."

"Yeah. I guess you're right about that," Becky murmured, her voice troubled. "But you'll be his friend, at least, right?"

"I'll be his friend," Julie assured her.

Becky pulled away, wiping at her teary eyes. "He really likes you, he told me. If he's got you, he's bound to be okay, right?"

Julie nodded, trying to smile confidently for Becky's benefit. But she wasn't so sure. She and Tim were just roommates. How was she supposed to help him when she didn't know what he needed and barely understood what was wrong?

Worse still, she thought guiltily, she wasn't convinced it was her responsibility.

* * *

Mindy went into labour one stormy, sweltering Friday night in early September. Tim and Julie were grocery shopping when they got the call, Julie's cell phone erupting with a barrage of texts from Billy. Julie read them in the freezer aisle of the supermarket, glancing up as Tim walked ahead of her with the shopping cart. Flipping her phone closed, she picked up her pace to catch him, her flip-flops slapping noisily against the slick linoleum.

"Tim?" She skidded to a stop next to him. He was examining a display featuring an array of crazy straws.

"I know they're for little kids," he mused, picking up a package and examining it. "But still."

"Did you by any chance give Billy my cell phone number for emergencies?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah," he replied, turning to look at her with a frown. "Why?"

"Ah. Well, I just got about seventy-five texts from Billy, looking for you. I think you're about to become an uncle again." Julie handed him her phone, and he quickly read the texts. While he was doing so, the phone rang, and Tim answered it.

"We'll be there as soon as we can," Tim reassured his brother. "Just tell Mins to hold on. I missed Katie being born, I don't want to miss this one, all right?" He hung up and passed the phone back to Julie. "Come on," he said, turning and abandoning their half-full shopping cart in the middle of the aisle.

Julie followed him, trying to keep up with his long strides. "What's going on? Are they at the hospital already?"

"Yeah," he replied, holding the front door of the grocery store open for her. "Came on kinda fast, I guess. She's not even due for another couple of weeks."

"Oh." Julie frowned as they came to a stop at Tim's truck and hopped in. He gunned the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. "But that's pretty normal though, right? Like, she'll be okay, won't she?"

"I'm sure she will, but Billy's flipping out. You mind coming along? I don't want to drive back home and then all the way across town to the hospital, just in case."

"No, that's okay," Julie replied, although sitting at the hospital with the Riggins clan hadn't really been in her plans for the evening.

They arrived at the hospital relatively quickly, finding themselves directed to a nearly empty waiting room with a TV set to CNN.

"Where are the kids?" Julie asked, dropping herself down onto one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

"Billy said Mindy's mom came and picked 'em up and took 'em to her place, and Mr. Garrity's looking after them so she can be here," Tim replied, sitting down next to her and stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Oh. So I guess there's not a lot for us to do to help, then, is there?"

"Not really," Tim replied. He glanced at her somewhat ruefully. "Sorry. You want me to find you a way home?"

"No, no! It's fine. I'll keep you company, at least," Julie said. Tim smiled back at her before turning his eyes toward the TV mounted in the corner.

Then, there was nothing to do but wait.

* * *

"Is there a Tim Riggins here?" a voice asked, disrupting the game of Tic-Tac-Toe Tim and Julie had going on. Tim was up in an instant.

"Come on," he said, gesturing at Julie as he followed the nurse who had called his name. She led him through a labyrinth of corridors before coming to a stop in front of a room. She held the door open for him and smiled encouragingly.

"Go on," she said, nodding.

Tim entered the room to find his brother and Mindy's mom gathered around the bed, where Mindy was reclining with a small bundle of blankets in her arms. She looked exhausted, but nodded at him to come closer. He came to stand next to the bed, clapping an arm over his brother's shoulder.

"This is Hayden. Hayden Timothy Riggins," Mindy said, smiling. Tim looked down at the small shape in her arms, wrapped snugly in a soft yellow blanket. He looked just like Stevie had when he was born.

"He's awesome, Mins," he said, looking first at her, then at his brother, who was standing anxiously over Mindy's shoulder like this was his first time rather than his third. Mindy's mother beamed at her daughter. Tim smiled, and turned to let Julie in closer to see the baby, only to find that she wasn't there. She must not have followed him in.

"Hold on a sec," he said, leaving the happy little family and walking back out into the hallway. He found Julie halfway back to the waiting area, leaning against a wall with her hands shoved in her pockets, looking awkward.

"Hey," he said, coming up to her. "I thought you came in with me."

"I thought maybe I should give you some time alone with them," Julie replied, looking embarrassed. "I mean, I'm not really..." she trailed off.

"Don't be stupid," Tim said, reaching down and taking her hand. "I wanna show off my new nephew; come on."

Julie allowed him to pull her along behind him, leading her into the room. Baby Hayden and Julie were introduced, and Tim glanced over to see Julie smiling at Mindy and Billy, her eyes warm.

"Congratulations, you guys," she said softly. "He's beautiful." The expression on her face made Tim's breath catch, and he cleared his throat. Julie's eyes met his, and they both seemed to realise at the same moment that her hand was still clasped in his. Julie blushed and pulled her hand away, rubbing it briefly against her thigh as though she'd burned it.

"Why don't I go pick Stevie and Katie up from Mr. Garrity's and bring them?" Julie offered. "They must be getting pretty sick of watching Lions game tape by now."

"Oh honey, don't be silly," Angela said, standing up from the chair next to Mindy's bed. "I'll go get the kids."

"No, you should stay!" Julie insisted. "I can go, it's really not a big deal." Tim glanced at her.

"If you don't mind, that would be awesome," Billy replied earnestly. "You can take the van. It's out front, and it's got the car seats and all that."

"I'll come," Tim said, taking a step towards Julie as she took the keys from Billy and headed towards the door.

"No! No, that's okay. I can handle them. You stay here and get acquainted," she said, smiling briskly at the others. "See you later."

The door thumped closed behind her, and she was gone. Tim frowned and turned back towards the bed.

"Damn," Billy muttered. "I'm hungry. Shoulda got her to pick us up some Alamo Freeze, too."

* * *

Julie drove Billy and Mindy's clunky old Dodge Caravan down Murphy Street, heading in the direction of Buddy and Angela's house. The headlights shone off the shiny pavement, which had been dampened by the rain that evening. It was still raining, and the old rubber wipers did a poor job of keeping the windshield clear. The dreary weather was, Julie felt, rather fitting. It suited her mood perfectly.

She'd been in a great mood for most of the day, but that had all changed, standing in that hospital room welcoming the newest Riggins into the world.

When she looked at that baby, and saw the way Tim looked at him, the first thought that entered her mind was that Tim would, in spite of, or perhaps _because _of everything, make a great father. The second was that the two of them would have really cute babies.

These were not things she had ever imagined with Nate. Not even, if she was really honest with herself, had she imagined them with Matt. They'd been so young that Julie never thought much further than college. Julie wasn't even sure she wanted to have children with _anyone_.

The hospital room shrank in that moment, as though all the oxygen had gone out of the room. Julie had to get out, and she latched onto the first opportunity to do so. Not particularly brave, but right now, Julie couldn't bring herself to care.

Julie took the turn into Buddy and Angela's neighbourhood, peering to find the right address. She had left in such haste that she hadn't gotten directions from Billy, and had to call her dad to ask for Buddy's address. The phone call had been terse, and only became more awkward when Julie explained why she needed the address.

Sighing, Julie parked the van and unbuckled her seatbelt. She couldn't think about her dad's disapproval of Tim on top of everything else.

She could deal with being attracted to Tim. It wasn't hard to do; she was by no means the first girl to fall victim to his more obvious charms. It was everything else that tripped her up – their conversations, his company, the way they had started to look out for each other.

The ease with which they had settled into each other's lives was starting to alarm her. It had never been like this with her other roommates. It hadn't even really been like this with Nate. Even though she spent a lot of time at his place, she had only ever felt like a guest, like his girlfriend staying the night. They'd never truly shared a home, and honestly, that had never really bothered her.

She felt like she was sharing more with Tim every day, and he was only supposed to be her roommate, nothing more than that. Yet her feelings for him stretched beyond that nothing more and into a no-man's-land for which she had no compass, no map. There were no boundaries, and it was starting to scare her.

Julie started as the yard was suddenly illuminated by Buddy's porch light. The front door opened and the former booster stood on the stoop, peering out at her. Shaking off her worries, Julie hopped out of the van and waved, walking up to the house. Right now, she had to worry about dealing with the younger Rigginses.

But tomorrow, she was going to have to find some way to push Tim back into the familiar territory of roommate and casual friend. Anything else left Julie with more uncertainty than she could handle.

* * *

Tim was going crazy, and unfortunately, the only solution he could come up with was to talk to Julie. This was difficult, because Julie herself was the problem.

All week long, she'd been acting weird. She was quiet on the drive home from the hospital the night Hayden was born, disappearing into her bedroom immediately upon their arrival with barely more than a mumbled goodnight. The rest of the week, she worked late and ate dinner at her parents', or simply said she was "busy" before slipping out the door. They didn't eat together or watch TV even once all week, and it was the loneliest Tim had felt in a long time.

For all that he wanted peace and space to himself, he had come to rely on Julie's company, and her sudden remoteness was confusing and painful. It didn't take a genius to know something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what he had done.

On Wednesday, she seemed to run out of ways to avoid him, and was reading in her bedroom when he arrived home from work. He took a shower and threw on an old Panthers t-shirt and clean jeans, surveying the mess of dirty laundry in his bedroom. Figuring a trip to the Laundromat would be a good excuse to talk to her, he knocked on her bedroom door.

"Yeah?" she answered. He opened the door a crack and poked his head in. Julie was stretched out on her back, a novel resting on her stomach. She glanced up at him.

"Hey. You thought about dinner yet?" he asked.

"I had a big lunch, so I'm not that hungry."

He nodded. "I got a ton of laundry to do. You wanna swing by the Laundromat later?"

Julie shook her head, returning her attention to her book. "Nah, I'm good. I took some stuff over to my parents' already this week."

"Oh," Tim replied, frowning slightly. He watched her for a moment as she pointedly ignored him, reading her book. "Listen, Jules, I don't know if I did something, but-" he was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone. Sparing a glance at her over his shoulder, he went back into the living room, found the cordless phone, and answered it.

"Tim, I need you to come to the house and watch the kids. Billy got arrested, and I can't get a hold of my mom," Mindy explained tearfully on the other end of the line.

"Arrested? What the hell for?"

"I don't know, he wouldn't tell me over the phone. Please, Tim." Her voice was becoming urgent with panic, and Tim could hear Kaitlyn and the baby both crying in the background.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there in five minutes." Tim didn't wait for her to respond, hanging up the phone and placing it on the counter.

"What's wrong?" Julie asked. He turned to find her watching him from her bedroom doorway, a worried expression creasing her brow.

Tim almost told her that it was nothing. Why bother Julie with his family's problems? She was just his roommate, after all. That was the only thing she had ever agreed to be to him, and she had been making it pretty clear that that was all she wanted. But the way she took a step closer to him, her concern evident on her face, had him speaking before he could think about it any further.

"That was Mindy. Billy's been arrested. I gotta go over there and watch the kids so Mindy can go bail him out," Tim explained, scrubbing a frustrated hand through his hair. He grabbed his keys off the table and stepped around Julie, heading for the door.

"Oh," Julie breathed, following him. "Wait, I'll come with you."

Tim stopped short at the door, turning to look back at her. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But, I mean... you know," she trailed off, giving him a shrug.

Tim didn't really know, but the earnest expression on Julie's face had him thinking that dealing with his undoubtedly furious sister-in-law and distraught niece and nephews might be easier with her by his side. He nodded and opened the door. She grabbed her bag off the table and followed him out.

* * *

The drive to Mindy and Billy's was a tense, silent affair, Tim glaring out at the road as Julie cast periodic worried glances his way. She didn't know what to say or do, or even if her presence was more of a hindrance than a help, but after seeing the look on his face as he spoke to Mindy on the phone, she couldn't let him go alone. It was that simple.

Tim turned the truck onto his old street, parking in front of the house. The minivan was the only vehicle in the driveway. He killed the engine and got out of the truck without a word, and Julie followed him as he walked up to the house. The front door was unlocked, and he let them both in.

They were immediately plunged into the chaos of the house, as Mindy was in the midst of leaving another hysterical voicemail for her mother, the cordless phone wedged between her chin and shoulder, her arms full of bawling baby Hayden. Mindy turned as soon as she heard the door, dropping the phone and heaving a huge sigh.

"Thank god you're here," she said. Her face was damp with tears and streaked with mascara, and she had a weariness about her that was well beyond her mere 30 years.

Taking a step forward, Julie took the baby, and Mindy wordlessly grabbed her purse, heading for the front door. Tim followed her, the door closing behind them as they both disappeared outside. Julie turned and looked at Stevie and Kaitlyn, who sat together on the couch, silent and distressed.

"You guys want to watch a movie?" Julie asked softly, hopefully, as she had no idea what she was supposed to do with the two children if they would not submit to being entertained. Stevie looked up as if noticing her for the first time, and nodded stiffly. Kaitlyn sniffled and took her brother's lead, nodding her little blond head.

"Okay," Julie said, trying to take charge. "Why don't you pick out a movie and hop into your pyjamas, and I'll see if I can get Hayden to calm down a bit so we can actually hear the movie, all right?"

By the time Tim came back inside, Stevie and Kaitlyn were in their pyjamas, sharing a bowl of dry Froot Loops on the couch, engrossed in _The Lion King_, and Julie was preparing a bottle for Hayden, who had finally stopped crying.

"Min's gonna go see if she can bail him out," Tim said softly as he joined her in the kitchen. He filled the bottle with the formula Julie had warmed, testing its temperature on his wrist.

"Do you want to go with her?" Julie asked, taking the bottle from him and rearranging Hayden in her arms so she could feed him. "I can hold down the fort here, if you want to go."

Tim shook his head, leaning back against the counter and glaring at the wall across from them. "Don't think I'm ready to talk to Billy just yet," he said, glancing at her and lowering his voice. "Mindy said he sounded drunk on the phone."

"Do you think that's why he got arrested?"

"Dunno. She was saying that he's been going out with a couple of his guys from the garage a lot, drinking and stuff."

Julie nodded, casting a glance over at the kids. She looked back at Tim. "I was thinking we could just watch a movie until they pass out. Does that work for you?"

"Yeah, sure," Tim nodded, blowing out a frustrated sigh. Julie turned towards the living room, but stopped when Tim caught her elbow. "Thanks for doing this, and for coming with me. It's really... Thanks."

Julie smiled softly and shrugged one shoulder. "You'd do the same for me, right?"

"Yeah, I would," Tim replied.

They headed into the living room and joined the kids, who wordlessly made room on the couch for their uncle. Julie sat in the chair, feeding Hayden and rocking him, just like she used to do with Gracie when she was in high school. Soon enough, Hayden was well fed, burped, and dozing happily. She put him to sleep in the master bedroom, and rejoined the movie during the chorus of "Hakuna Matata." When she sat back down in the chair, Kaitlyn slid off the couch and wordlessly climbed into her lap, settling in for the rest of the movie.

Julie did her best to ignore the look Tim cast her way, just as she was ignoring the way her decision to keep things simple between them had been blown right out of the water, and she was the one who pulled the trigger.

Both Stevie and Kaitlyn had fallen asleep by the time the movie ended, and Tim and Julie managed to settle them into their beds without waking either of them. They were trying to quietly exit the bedroom when Mindy came in the front door, dropping her purse and jean jacket on one of the dining room chairs.

"What's going on?" Tim asked, as Julie hung back, closing the bedroom door.

Mindy ran her hands through her hair and sighed a bone-deep sigh. "It's a DUI. They're keeping him in the drunk tank at least for tonight. The earliest he can go before a judge is tomorrow morning."

"I'm sorry, Mins," Tim replied, taking a step towards her.

"Yeah, well," she shrugged, laughing a harsh, humourless laugh. "That's what you get when you marry into a family of alcoholics, huh?"

Julie bit her lip, glancing at Tim, but he just nodded. "Call me if you need anything, all right?"

"I will," Mindy said, her voice hollow. "Thanks for looking after the kids."

"It's fine." Tim turned and looked at Julie. He nodded at her, and she hated to see the troubled look in his eyes. As they walked down to his truck, parked in the street, she had to shove her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans to keep them from reaching for one of his.

The drive home was as quiet as the drive there, and when Tim parked outside their building and turned off the engine, neither of them rushed to get out of the truck.

"I know Mindy's upset, but she shouldn't have said that," Julie ventured softly, after a long silence.

"Mmm," Tim replied noncommittally. "You didn't think the same thing the night I got drunk and trashed the living room?"

Julie didn't respond to that, just looked down, biting her lip. "Do you..." she began eventually, struggling to find the words, "I mean, do you want to quit drinking? Do you want to find a meeting?"

Tim frowned, looking down at this hands resting on the steering wheel. "Do you think I need to?"

Julie shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know, Tim. I don't know if that's something I can really answer. Maybe you do, maybe you don't. But I think it's important to remember that you're not Billy. You know? He's your brother and you have a lot of shared history, but you're still separate people. You're not... I mean, you can be whoever you want."

Tim nodded, but his expression remained doubtful.

"I'm sorry this is happening," Julie said softly. "Is there anything I can do?"

Tim shook his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes sad as he looked at her across the truck. Julie's heart clenched in sympathy, and she searched for the right words to say. There were none, of course.

"If you could..." Tim began, his words trailing off abruptly as he continued to watch her.

"What? Tell me," Julie urged.

Tim leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, barely-there kiss. Briefly stunned, it took her a moment to react, but within a beat she was tilting her head to kiss him back. Her hand came up to his cheek to deepen the kiss at the same moment he pulled away.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, his forehead leaning against hers for an all too scant moment before he sat back in the driver's seat and placed his hands on the steering wheel.

"Don't say you're sorry," Julie replied. "It's... it's okay, Tim."

"Go on inside," he said. "I'm gonna drive around for a while. Clear my head."

"Okay," Julie murmured, not having the heart to argue with him. She wanted to say _be careful _or _don't stay out too late _or_ if you stop for a drink, call me and I'll come get you_, but she knew those were all things a girlfriend would say. She was just his roommate; it wasn't really her business. Except that it so obviously was. Finally, she simply said that she would see him soon, and she hopped out of the truck. He nodded to her once, absently, and drove off down their street without a word.

Julie stood in the halo of light beneath the street lamp, watching his brake lights disappear as he turned the corner.

* * *

Two days later, Julie had just gotten home from work and changed into her favourite lounging clothes when there was a knock on the door. Peering through the peep hole, she saw Billy standing on the other side, looking haggard. He had made bail on Thursday morning. That was what Tim had told her, at least, not that they had done a whole lot of talking. Tim had made himself extremely scarce since driving off that night.

Kissing your roommate did tend to make casual conversation a little awkward, she could admit.

Julie opened the door and leaned on the frame, not letting Billy in. "Tim's not here," she said simply.

Billy had the decency to look chagrined, which Julie took to mean that Mindy had informed him of the inconvenience he'd caused not only to Tim, but to her as well. "Any idea where he might be?"

"At work, maybe, but he's usually done by now. I really don't know where else he'd go."

"Damn it," Billy swore. "He's been avoiding me like crazy. I hate it when he acts like this."

Julie crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed. "Don't you think that's kind of understandable, Billy? I mean, he's the one Mindy called in a panic when you were arrested."

"You can stop right there, Julie," Billy said. "We've been through this whole thing before. Lyla Garrity. That name ring a bell to you? She used to come around, looking down on Tim and me with all her crap, when she didn't know shit about what we've been through together."

"Excuse me?" Julie replied, not backing down in the slightest.

"I guess by now Tim's told you all about what happened with the cars and all that, but it's complicated, all right? There's a lot to it that you wouldn't understand."

"What are you even talking about?" Julie snapped, irritated by his condescending tone. "What cars, Billy?"

Billy gaped at her, realisation seeming to dawn in his expression. "He hasn't told you."

"Told me what?"

Billy blew out a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I just assumed he woulda told you, but that was stupid. He probably hasn't told anyone."

"Told me iwhat/i?" Julie repeated. "What the hell are you talking about, Billy?"

Billy didn't reply immediately, regarding her closely out of the corner of his eye. "You cannot say anything to anyone about what I'm about to tell you," he said, his voice low and serious.

Julie nodded.

"I mean it – not Tim, not Becky. Not even your dad."

Julie nodded again, apprehensive.

"The chop shop. It was my idea; I set the whole thing up. I needed money for Mindy, with Stevie on the way, and I got stupid. Tim didn't even know about it at first, and he only really found out by accident. I was trying to keep it from him. I think he helped because he wanted the money for this piece of land out on loop 39 that was for sale, and I guess because... Because I asked him, and he... He never could say no to me, you know? He asked me to stop, but it was too late by then. We'd already done a lot of cars. It was too late." The words came out of Billy in a rush, almost of their own volition, as though he wasn't even talking to her. As though they simply needed to be said aloud, regardless of who was listening.

"Oh my god," Julie said, shaking her head. "Billy... How could you?"

He looked down. "There ain't nothing you can say to me I haven't said to myself a hundred times a day since he went away. I let my little brother go to prison for me. He wanted it that way, thought of it himself, wouldn't take no for an answer, so I could stay with Mindy and Stevie, but... There are some things you just can't forgive yourself for."

"Why – why are you telling me this?" Julie asked, stricken.

Billy stepped away from the doorway, groaning and leaning on the railing as he looked out at the street below. He was quiet for a moment, then turned to look at her. "I think maybe you could be good for him. It wouldn't be right to let you think he's something he's not."

Julie was stunned into silence, and Billy made no attempt to explain further or defend himself. He left soon after. There was nothing left to say, after all.

She closed the door behind Billy and stood still in the middle of the living room, staring at the blank, duct-taped TV. Eventually she sat down on the couch and decided to just wait for Tim to come home. She needed to talk to him. She had no idea what she was going to say, but she knew she needed to talk to him.

It had never bothered her that Tim had spent time in prison, for to her he was still just Tim, not some hardened criminal. She never held it against him. But to know now that he spent four years in prison for something that had largely been Billy's doing, she had no idea how to feel. At the moment, she just felt sad for him in a way that was impossible to articulate.

Julie's head throbbed unhappily and she curled up on the couch, wiping a sleeve over her face as tears wet her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the tears to stop.

When she opened her eyes again, it was much later; the sun had set and the apartment was dark and silent. She sat up, rubbing her tired eyes.

Standing up with the intention of heading for the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of movement out on the balcony. Tim was sitting out there in one of her parents' beat up old folding chairs. She stood for a moment, unsure, and then walked over, pushing the sliding glass door aside to let herself out.

"Hey," she said, sitting down in the other free chair and pulling her feet up onto it.

"Hey," Tim replied. He was smoking a cigarette, a half-empty beer sitting on the concrete at his feet.

"I didn't hear you come in, you ninja," she said softly. He didn't respond except to give a little nod. "How are you doing?"

Tim shrugged, reaching down and grabbing his beer to take a sip. Julie watched him closely, wondering what had been going through his head since the other night. Before she could stop herself, the words were tumbling out of her mouth. "Billy stopped by, looking for you. Tim, he... He told me what happened. What really happened, I mean, with the chop shop."

Tim turned and fixed her with a look for a long moment before sighing harshly and turning away, running a hand through his hair. "He shouldn't have done that."

"I don't understand. I mean... Why? Why did you confess to the whole thing?"

"Because it was Billy. He's my brother, Jules. He's my _brother_. He practically raised me. He's done a lot of stupid things. We both have. But he had a family of his own – I couldn't let him go down for it, not when he had Mindy and Stevie to look after. Not after everything he gave up for me. It was my turn to look after him."

"Yeah, but he was still partly responsible! According to him, _mostly_ responsible. I mean-"

"No, Jules. It was my turn."

Julie stared, completely at a loss for words. He was noble, and honourable, and somehow capable of holding almost nothing against anyone who did him wrong. She'd known that for a long time, better perhaps than most people, and had somehow forgotten.

"What did you do when you found out you were for sure going to prison?" Julie asked softly.

Tim was silent for a long pause. He lifted his hand and cupped it against his mouth, taking a drag from his cigarette. He exhaled the smoke in a heavy sigh before stubbing the cigarette out in the ash tray at his side. "Cried."

"Really?" she asked. Tim scrutinized her as if to check for any trace of mockery. There was none, of course – Julie felt more sombre than she had felt in a long time.

"Sure," he replied. "I was scared as hell."

Julie didn't respond, simply watching his troubled face for a moment. She leaned across the small space that separated them, and pressed her lips to his, her fingers brushing against the rough stubble on his jaw. He tasted like beer and cigarettes. Julie shivered, and opened her mouth against his.

"Jules," he said against her lips, pulling away. She didn't let him finish, leaning in and kissing him again. He gave a ragged sigh and tilted his head, his tongue brushing against her bottom lip. Julie opened her mouth, sliding her hands up into his hair. He groaned, his hands finding their way to her shoulders to pull her closer to him.

They kissed that way for several minutes before Julie became impatient. "Inside, come on," she said against his lips, standing and grabbing his hand before he could protest. She needn't have worried; the hesitance seemed to have gone right out of him. She had barely closed the sliding door behind them before he was pressing her against it, kissing her and gripping her hips tightly in his hands.

Julie felt breathless and dizzy as he pulled her closer still. She slid her hands up to his neck, holding on as he turned and walked her gently back to the couch. Taking charge, Julie grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled, tugging him along with her as she headed for her bedroom. It was dark as they passed through the open door, and neither of them made a move to turn on a light.

"You sure?" Tim asked, his voice low, as the backs of Julie's knees bumped against her bed.

"I'm sure," she replied, leaning up to kiss him again.

They collapsed onto the bed, Julie's thighs falling open easily for Tim to settle in, pressing against her. Reaching up, Julie pulled at the hem of his shirt. Tim pushed her hands away and sat up, yanking the shirt over his head. Julie took the opportunity to squirm out of the tight t-shirt she wore, tossing it across the room before dropping her hands to his waist and working his fly open. She felt hurried, flushed and feverish, as Tim pulled her plain black yoga pants down over her hips, pausing to press a hot palm against her through her underwear. She shuddered, pulling him back down to kiss her and shoving his jeans off his hips with her feet.

Tim kissed his way down her neck and across her collarbone, pulling the straps of her pale green bra off her shoulders as he went. Julie inched herself backwards, sitting up a little so she could lean over and open the top drawer of her nightstand. Groping around in the semi-darkness, she hoped she still had condoms left over from the spring, when she and Nate were together. Her fingers passed over a square of foil and she grasped it, triumphant, as Tim hooked his fingers under the bands of her underwear and pulled them off.

Before Julie could catch a breath, Tim was over her again, his erection pressing insistently against her thigh as he kissed her. One of his hands ghosted along her hip and down between her legs, and Julie gasped as he pushed a finger inside her. Face flaming, she gripped his hair in her hands and bit her lip, wondering if she ought to be embarrassed at how turned on she was right now.

Tim didn't seem to think anything of it, kissing his way across her chest, pushing the cup of her bra out of the way to take one hard nipple into his mouth.

Julie moaned, her stomach clenching hard in anticipation. As Tim's teeth scraped against her sensitive skin, she felt overcome with urgency, and pushed Tim away a little so she could reach down and shove his boxers out of the way. Tearing the condom open and tossing the wrapper aside, she slid it on over him. This time, it was Tim who moaned, holding himself up and bracing his weight on his forearms as Julie gripped him firmly in one hand.

Without a word, he pushed inside her, pressing his hips into hers and hooking one of her legs over his hip.

"Oh god," Julie gasped, grabbing onto his upper arms for support. She tried to catch his eye, but he had an intense, almost grim look of concentration on his face. Gone was her funny, sweet Tim; he seemed to have been replaced by someone far more remote.

He drew his hips back and thrust into her, forcing her legs even further apart. Julie moaned out a sound that might have been his name, gripping his hair in her hands as they began to pick up a steady, driving rhythm.

"Tim," she gasped. His eyes were closed, and he leaned in and buried his face against her neck. She pulled at his hair, forcing him to look at her. "Please – don't disappear on me."

Tim's movements slowed, and his eyes met hers under brows drawn together in a troubled frown. Sliding his arms underneath her to hold her tightly to him, he sat up and back, so she was in his lap. Julie moaned as the change in angle forced him deeper inside her. Threading her arms around his neck, she leaned down and kissed him. She felt his hands slide up her back and undo her bra, tossing it aside as he kissed his way down her throat.

Recovering from the change, Julie rolled her hips against his in a small circle, sighing when Tim's hands dropped to her waist and he began to thrust up with her, his hands gently guiding her movements.

Julie choked out a moan as the sensations intensified, their bodies straining urgently against one another. Tim slid a hand down and began rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb, pressing harder with each pass. Julie cried out, her spine stiffening as she felt the pressure inside became overwhelming.

Tim ground her hips down hard against his, and Julie gasped, her movements stilling as the pressure broke and she came. She could only hold onto him and ride the waves out, her fingernails digging into his scalp. Tim didn't stop, pushing her back onto the bed and dragging his teeth against her collarbone. He leaned back, gripping her hips in his hands as he continued to thrust through her orgasm.

Practically boneless, she reached back and braced her hands against the shelves on her headboard, trying to find purchase as his thrusts became hard.

"Say something," he whispered roughly.

"Wh-like what?" Julie asked, her mind reeling.

"Anything."

Julie stared, open-mouthed, at the ceiling above them. The bed creaked, and Tim's entire body was trembling against hers.

"I tried, but... I-I can't... I can't stop thinking about you," she gasped.

Tim's movements shuddered, and gripped her hips so hard that Julie winced. He came with a groan before collapsing against her, panting.

The sound of their ragged breathing filled the room. "Sorry," Tim said, after a long pause. He was shaking.

Julie frowned, trying to get a glimpse of his face. She couldn't see it, obscured as it was by his hair. He leaned back a little, flicking his damp hair out of his eyes. He was crying silently, an awful expression of pain on his face. Stunned and at a loss for words, Julie brought her arms up around his shoulders and hugged him.

He heaved a huge sigh and buried his face in her neck, holding her tightly to him.

"It's okay, Tim," she whispered, stricken. "It's gonna be okay."

They lay in silence for a long time, Julie idly combing her fingers through his hair as their racing hearts slowed. His head rested on her chest, and she could feel the tension in his body. She stayed still, trying to get him to relax while silently contemplating the mess she was in. She was pretty sure that sleeping with your ex-con roommate, who happened to have enough emotional baggage to sink a ship, was typically a terrible idea.

Tim shifted against her and sighed heavily, his body finally relaxing a bit. "I'm sorry," he said roughly.

"It's all right," Julie said, despite the anxiety and trepidation which bothered her now, too. "This is... We're... It's a lot to process."

Tim lifted his head and looked at her. His face was ashen and the circles under his eyes looked ghastly. "It's not all right," he said gruffly. "You shouldn't have to... I probably shouldn't be doing this with anybody right now. Least of all you."

Julie sighed and tilted her head to meet his eyes. "If this is gonna be about how you can't be with anyone right now because you're damaged goods and you're going to ruin my life or something, could we maybe save it for tomorrow? I don't know if I can deal with you pushing me away right now."

Tim contemplated her silently for a moment, frowning. "You must be even crazier than I am."

"Maybe," Julie admitted, smiling. She pulled him close, furrowing her fingers through his hair, and kissed him. He kissed her back, his hands framing her face. After a moment, he moved his weight off of her and curled up against her back, pulling her to his chest. Julie grabbed his hand from where it rested on her hip and laced her fingers with his, holding their joined hands to her chest.

"We'll talk in the morning, okay?" she whispered, closing her eyes.

The last thing she felt was Tim sigh into her hair as he nodded, pressing his forehead against the crown of her head.


	6. Chapter 6

_I can't take your breath away,_

_but I'll show you a brand new way,_

_with brand new love._

_I can't mend your wounded heart,_

_but I'll give you a brand new start,_

_with brand new love._

Serena Ryder, "Brand New Love"

When Julie awoke in the morning, she was alone. She stretched and rolled over, frowning when she didn't find another body in her way. She opened her eyes, blinking blearily and sitting up. The room was washed in warm morning sunlight, dust motes dancing through the still air. Frowning, Julie swung her feet out of bed and grabbed the first item of clothing she found, Tim's t-shirt, and pulled it over her head. Her bedroom door was open, and she walked out into the living room. Tim wasn't there either, but the smell of fresh, hot coffee permeated the apartment, leading Julie into their little kitchen. She grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured herself some coffee, trying not to worry about the fact that Tim was absolutely nowhere to be found.

She was just adding a second lump of sugar to her coffee when the front door opened and Tim came in, shutting it behind him before dropping his keys on the table.

"Hey," she greeted him, coming out of the kitchen to stand in the middle of the room.

"Hey," he replied, looking a little taken aback. He was dressed even more haphazardly than usual, having thrown on jeans which, without a belt, hung dangerously low on his waist, and a plaid shirt which was only fastened by three buttons. He looked down to toe off his boots, and Julie noticed that he was carrying a paper bag in one hand.

"What's that?" she asked, the silence between them beginning to feel awkward to her.

"Breakfast," he said, looking up to smile ruefully at her. "You were supposed to be sleeping, still."

"Oh," she replied, feeling her face flush. "I can pretend, if you want."

The oddest expression of amusement and pleasure crossed his face. "Okay," he said, his voice low. "Go lie down."

Julie was sure he didn't miss the intense blush that flamed up at his words, her face suddenly feeling as hot as the coffee clasped in her hands. She nodded stiffly and walked past him, back into her bedroom, listening as he shuffled about in the other room, presumably pouring himself a cup of coffee.

She set her coffee on the bedside table and climbed back into bed, the covers still warm and cozy from her body. She tried to decide what the most flattering pose was to be lounging in when he entered, but he caught her by surprise and came into the room while she was still in the middle of arranging the pillows.

"Hey," she said, sitting back as he went around the other side of the bed. He didn't reply, putting his own coffee down and kicking his jeans away, tossing aside items of clothing until he was clad only in a pair of boxer briefs. Julie was about to make a comment when he knelt on the bed next to her and caught her lips in a kiss, one hand at her neck.

"Morning," he muttered against her lips, as he pulled away.

"Morning," she replied softly, feeling a little dazed.

"That's how that was supposed to go," he said, turning to sit back against the pillows Julie had propped up against her headboard. He opened the bag he had brought with him, and Julie's nose was teased with the scent of hot cinnamon buns.

"Cinnamon buns? Are you for real?" she asked, making herself comfortable next to him and taking the sticky pastry he offered her. She pulled off a piece of icing-covered dough, popping it into her mouth and moaning in pleasure. "Bed probably isn't the best place to eat these."

"I'll wash your sheets for you," he replied, pulling off a piece of his own cinnamon bun. He put the box of buns down on the end of the bed.

"Gee, thank you," she said, stifling a giggle.

"No, thank you," he mumbled, his voice almost too quiet to be heard. Julie turned to see him watching her closely. "For everything."

Julie grimaced slightly. "Don't thank me – it's not like I did you a favour, Tim."

"Finish your breakfast," he said merely, after a pause.

"What, are you in a hurry or something?"

"Yeah, kinda. Cute as it looks on you, I wanna get you out of that shirt pretty much right away."

Julie blushed clear up to her hairline. Tim grinned at her, and Julie was reminded suddenly of the boy who had once slept on their couch and played with her baby sister and given her rides to school. She hadn't seen that boy in years. Nobody had. But here he was, emerging slowly and certainly.

She leaned in and kissed him. He tasted like coffee and cinnamon, and Julie felt a strange emotion wash through her, something like the way homesickness faded upon return from a long trip. Being with Tim should have felt new or foreign, but instead it felt safe and familiar. She felt protected, as though she could somehow be certain that Tim would never harm her.

For the first time in many months, Julie felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

They kissed slowly, settling gently into one another. Julie shivered when Tim pushed her shirt up to kiss his way across her stomach, leaving goose bumps where his mouth touched her. She sat up and pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it back on the floor where she had found it. Tim smiled against her neck, his hands tangled in her long hair, and they made love that way, slow and sweet, like all the time in the world belonged to them. Julie surprised them both with her laughter when they knocked the box of cinnamon buns to the floor. Her giggle ended as abruptly as it began when Tim caught her lips in another kiss.

"I think my coffee's cold," Julie said breathlessly, afterwards. Her cheek rested on his chest, and she could feel his heart pounding.

"I'll warm it up," Tim replied, his voice sleepy, his hand running idly through her hair.

"You'd better," she smiled. She gazed at the far wall of her bedroom, where she had hung a little watercolour painting she bought on a day trip to San Jose with Nate. She shifted her head, feeling Tim's steady breathing beneath her head. "You okay?" she asked softly, thinking of the way he had fallen apart last night.

"Mmm-hmm," he said simply. She watched him closely for a moment, and then relaxed, smiling. She believed him. At this moment he was okay, and so was she. For now, that was enough.

They fell quiet for a long time, happy to doze the morning away together. Eventually, Julie sighed and sat up a little, tucking the sheets around to cover herself. She propped her head up on one hand, the other resting on Tim's chest. She watched him, taking in the sleepy peace on his face. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at her, a crease forming on his forehead at her scrutiny.

"We should probably talk about this," Julie said softly, hating to be the one to say it.

"Mmm," Tim replied, noncommittal. "Doesn't seem like there's a whole lot to talk about, far as I can tell."

"Oh no?"

"Nope. You free tonight, Jules?"

"Yes," she said, fighting the smile that tugged at her lips.

"You wanna go on a date with me?"

She lost her fight, and grinned. "Sure."

"Good," Tim smiled. "I wanna take you out for dinner someplace."

"I would love that," Julie said. "Did you have something specific in mind?"

"Yeah, Ray's Barbecue. You like brisket, right?"

"Argh," Julie complained, smacking his chest in gentle consternation. Tim laughed.

"I don't care where we go, Jules, long as you're there."

Julie tucked her head down against his shoulder, smiling. Much as she may have wanted to play it cool, it was impossible for her to hide how much that pleased her.

That big, awkward relationship discussion could wait.

* * *

Dinner didn't last long.

Julie wished she could blame bad food or substandard service at the casual little Italian place they found in West Dillon, but everything was perfect. No, Tim was the one to blame for their short date. Or perhaps Julie was to blame, for she had never before found herself on the receiving end of Tim's charm, and didn't quite know what to do with it. In fact, Julie had never thought of him as being particularly charming at all, not even back in high school when girls (and, embarrassingly, more than a few grown women) seemed to flock to him. Sure, he was gorgeous, and had a body that defied belief, but he was also usually drunk or hungover, unwashed, moody, and monosyllabic to the point of rudeness. The guy was no James Bond, to put it mildly.

But as Julie watched their waitress grate fresh parmesan cheese on the top of her steaming plate of pasta primavera, she couldn't help but wonder how fast they could get through the meal and get back to the apartment and, frankly, get back into bed.

Tim would not leave her alone, and it was going to drive her insane.

From the moment they were seated at the table, he had begun pressing a knee between hers under the table while pretending to study the menu, or brushing the back of her hand with his thumb and looking away innocently when she glanced at him, or leaning in and mumbling something dirty under his breath and feigning a cough when she choked on her pinot grigio.

Around the time the waitress cleared their plates and went to fetch them a dessert menu, Julie was fed up. Carefully trying not to jostle the table with her knee, Julie slid one foot out of its ballet flat and, while smiling blithely at the waitress as she returned with the menu, pressed the ball of her foot against his crotch.

Tim lowered his beer abruptly to the table with a heavy thud, as his other hand shot under the table, his fingers wrapping tightly around her ankle. His face was flushed, and he smiled at her. "You wanna get out of here, Jules?"

"Sure, whatever," she replied, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug and trying to hide her grin behind her hand.

They left in such a hurry that the waitress probably thought they had dined and dashed, at least until she spotted the handful of bills Tim had left on the table. They kissed in the car for several minutes before they even left the parking lot, and Julie felt like she was 16 years old again. She felt giddy and thrilled, and the consequences and complications of what they had started were the last things on her mind as Tim pinned her against the inside of their front door, hiked up her skirt, and fucked her before either of them could stop to catch a breath.

"I think," Julie gasped, gulping down air as Tim panted against her sweaty neck, "that you might be getting your um... _swagger_ back."

"My swagger?"

"I thought it sounded more manly than getting your groove back."

Tim laughed a hot, breathless laugh before hitching his arms under her thighs and walking her back into his bedroom. "We should probably keep working on it," he said lightly, dropping her onto his unmade bed, where they spent the rest of that night. Julie fell asleep sprawled half across Tim's chest, and he didn't seem to mind one bit.

Julie was awakened in the middle of the night when Tim moaned and shifted uneasily, his foot catching her ankle sharply. "Ow," she grumbled, opening her eyes to peer at him in the dark. He was dreaming again. "Tim?"

He gave a strangled gasp and awoke, blinking at her in confusion for a moment before settling back against his pillow.

"Nightmare?" she asked, her voice soft in the darkness.

"Yeah," he replied gruffly, his voice hoarse. Unsure how best to handle this, Julie placed a hand on his shoulder. His skin was clammy, bathed in sweat, and he was trembling. When he didn't protest, she edged closer, pressing herself against his side.

"I figured. I heard you another time."

"Oh."

"Sorry; I don't mean to embarrass you, I just... It's okay. That's all." Tim gave a shaky breath, and Julie felt his arm against her back, pulling her closer. "Do you – do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he said shortly, although his words held no anger. "Just... stay. Okay?"

"Okay," Julie replied. She laid her head down on his chest, draping her free arm across his body to hold him close. She listened as his breathing and his racing heart slowed.

She desperately wanted to ask him about the dreams, her imagination running wild again as she imagined all the horrible things he could be dreaming about. She hugged him closer, biting her bottom lip. She wouldn't pry, wouldn't push him, however much she may have wanted. It had to be his choice to tell her.

"Thanks for sticking around," Tim said eventually, his voice hoarse in the darkness.

"It's okay," Julie replied, running what she hoped was a comforting hand down his arm. He sighed raggedly.

"I don't want to be the one who needs... stuff all the time. I want to be there for you," he said earnestly.

"You are," Julie insisted. Tim gave no response to this, aside from the deepening of the frown already creasing his brow.

"I hate this feeling," he murmured, looking away from her as he struggled to put words to his emotions. Julie waited silently as he thought. "Helplessness, I guess. I hate feeling... small."

"I'm sorry," Julie said softly once he finished.

"I don't want pity."

"It's not pity. You're resilient. You know that, don't you? You're a survivor. That means you're above pity. I don't pity you, Tim. I admire you. How could I not?" Julie was surprised by the lump in her throat as she spoke. She wasn't attempting to placate him; she meant every last word.

Tim watched her for a moment and then dropped his gaze, settling back against his pillow and pulling her against him. Julie rested her cheek against his chest. It occurred to her that she hadn't really made good on her promise that they would talk about their relationship, whatever it was, today. Then again, neither had Tim.

_Tomorrow_, she thought, closing her eyes. _We can talk about it tomorrow_.

* * *

Sunday was spent in much the same way as Saturday, their indolence so profound that they only got out of bed in order to go to the bathroom or get food.

Their lost weekend ended eventually, and on Monday, they both returned to work. They fell immediately into a new routine of forcing themselves out of bed in the morning, going to work, hurrying home as soon as possible, and having the feverish kind of sex Julie referred to as "very French-romantic-film-montage." Tim had no idea what she'd meant by that, only that it made her laugh and kiss him, which he figured had to make it a good thing.

On Wednesday, he met with his parole officer, and in between updates on work and assuring Rob that he was staying out of trouble, Tim found himself talking about Julie, about everything that had happened between them over the last couple of weeks.

"I think I might be kinda... in love with her, I guess," Tim said, frowning down at his hands.

"You sure you're not just grateful that she's nice to you?" Rob asked, leaning back in his chair and regarding Tim shrewdly.

Tim stared at the older man. "Is there a difference?"

"Yeah, there is," Rob replied. He removed his glasses and sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "Look, Tim, I'm not your therapist. I don't know how to help you figure out what to do if you have feelings for this girl. All I can say is that, from a practical standpoint, it's probably not a great idea to start a relationship with your roommate when your housing alternatives are limited."

Tim nodded. With baby Hayden having taken up residence in the Riggins household, things were even more crowded than before. If things went sour with Julie and he had to move out, he didn't really have anywhere to go.

Besides, what did he have to offer Julie? She had to be wondering what their future would be like. In his experience, girls always did. With him, hers would be a life in a small town he knew she more or less hated, stuck with a guy who would only ever be that football player who went to prison.

Julie didn't need that. She didn't need anyone, really – that much was obvious to Tim. She wasn't a girl who needed a boyfriend, let alone a crappy one. She deserved to be with someone who could make her happy, who could offer her the kind of life she wanted. And Tim was sure she didn't want the kind of life he could offer.

"I've been doing this for a while," Rob continued after a moment, "and one thing I see a lot of, especially with guys like you, is that they've shut down. Do you understand what I mean when I say that, Tim?"

Tim shrugged, although he had an idea.

"When bad things happen, you clock out and wait for the storm to pass, so to speak. I'm guessing that's not new. You learned to do that a long time ago, huh?"

Without looking up, Tim nodded.

"It's pretty common in kids who grow up in situations like yours, with alcoholic, absentee parents."

Tim frowned down at his hands, and did not respond.

"I bring this up because just now, when you were telling me about Julie, that was the first time I've seen you be anything_ but _shut down since the first day you walked into this office. You can't build your life and your plans solely around one other person. But if she gives you the hope I think she does that there is a life in this world for you, a good life, then I think you'd be stupid as hell to let her go without at least trying."

Tim looked up, meeting Rob's eyes in surprise. The older man shrugged.

"It's hard to let someone in, especially if you've been knocked around before. You expect to get slapped down. But you never know until you open up. Maybe she won't slap you down. Think about it."

Tim nodded, taking this in. Rob glanced at the clock on his desk, and turned to close Tim's file on his desk. Tim stood, knowing this meant their time was up.

"Hey, Tim – one more thing," Rob said, standing.

"Yeah?"

"As of next week, your probation period is up. You're all done."

"Seriously?" Tim hadn't realised that time was passing so quickly.

"Yeah, seriously. So good luck, and I don't wanna see you darken my doorway any time soon, all right?" Tim nodded, and reached out a hand. Rob shook it firmly. "Besides, sounds to me like that girl of yours would whip your ass if you ever so much as glanced at the wrong side of the law. You follow her lead on that one."

Tim smiled wryly. "Yes, sir. I think you're right about that."

Tim returned to work for the afternoon, which he mostly spent lost in consideration of his dilemma. He knew he probably shouldn't be in a relationship with anyone right now, and that the selfless thing to do would be to break things off now before they got in too deep, deep enough for Jules to realise she didn't want to spend her life with an ex-con whose stomach dropped at the thought of being in any enclosed space smaller than an elevator. It was a burden he didn't want her to shoulder. He never wanted her to resent him, and that's what burdens did.

He'd learned that a long time ago, too. It was why he was able to let Lyla Garrity walk out of his life not once, but twice.

But the thought of standing back and watching Julie move on with her life, with new guys, made him feel hollowed-out in a way he hadn't felt since the day a judge told him he had four long years to think about the choices he had made.

Maybe ending this thing with Julie was the noble thing to do. But this time, Tim wasn't sure he had the heart to do it.

* * *

When Tim arrived home that evening, Julie was sitting at the table in jeans and a t-shirt, studying the bottle of beer in front of her. Her legs were crossed and her chin rested in one hand, and her forehead was creased in a frown. All sure signs that she was deep in thought.

Swallowing, Tim closed the door behind him and then turned to face her. She looked up at him, and he felt like he was waiting for an axe to fall.

"We need to talk," she said softly.

Nodding, Tim pulled one of the chairs out and sat down across from her.

"I think I want to be a cool, sophisticated girl who can roll with the punches and who doesn't need everything to be all perfect and neatly defined, but well... The truth is, right now, I need a little definition," she said carefully, as though she had been practicing these words all day.

"Okay," Tim replied, unsure whether she was going to continue. She did.

"What are we?" she asked, her eyes bright and earnest. "To each other, I mean?"

"I don't know. I'm... I don't know."

Julie nodded and looked down at the table. "I like you, Tim. I care about you, a lot. Really a lot... More than I realised, I think. It's a little scary. I wasn't expecting to get into something like this so soon after everything that happened this year. I wasn't expecting_ you_."

"I didn't expect you either, Jules. Not by a long shot."

Julie glanced at him, and Tim frowned to see the tears in her eyes. "I'm afraid that I can't be what you need. I'm afraid I'll be... disappointing," she said.

Tim watched her for a long moment and then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Been thinking the exact same thing about myself. I can't be there for you, can't be the kinda guy you want, you deserve, the way I am."

Julie worried her bottom lip, staring at him, and then suddenly laughed and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. "I guess we're running the risk of serious mutual disappointment, huh?"

"Guess so," Tim replied. "Look, I'm all messed up. I don't want to be a burden to you, Jules."

Julie seemed to contemplate this for several beats, before shaking her head and looking over at him. "You're not a burden, Tim. You're not. But maybe... Maybe it's like you were saying about you and Billy, that he looked after you, and that it was your turn to look after him. Right now, you need some help, so it's my turn. But maybe somewhere down the road, I'll need you, and it'll be your turn."

Tim blinked, not knowing what to say. "That's a lot to take on," he observed, after a pause.

She sent him a watery smile and then stood up and came around to his side of the table. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and Tim held his breath. He couldn't tell if that kiss was a hello or a goodbye. She reached down and grabbed his hand in hers. "Come on."

"Where're we goin'?" he asked, not protesting as she dragged him up and in the direction of the bathroom.

"Shower," she replied plainly, switching on the light and pulling the shower curtain aside. "You're still all sweaty from work." Tim stood watching, dumbstruck, as she pulled her t-shirt over her head and slid her jeans over her hips, leaving her clothes in a small heap on the floor. She stood there naked, testing the temperature of the water before stepping into the bathtub. "You coming or what?" she asked from inside the shower, her voice garbled by the sound of rushing water.

Tim had never stripped faster in his life, stepping over the side of the tub and securing the curtain behind him.

"I should admit that I had ulterior motives in getting you into the shower," Julie said, smiling up at him as she stepped back and soaked her long hair. Tim swallowed as hot water slid down her body, the air between them billowing with steam.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, switching places with her so he could soak his own head.

"Yeah," Julie replied. She reached over his shoulder and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. "I just wanted to make sure that you actually washed your hair for once." She squeezed some shampoo into her palm and stood on her tiptoes, dumping it on the crown of his head and scrubbing vigorously.

"Hey," Tim complained, turning around and leaning back a little so she could reach better. He closed his eyes and smiled as Julie massaged the shampoo into his hair, her fingers rubbing pleasantly against his scalp.

"What? Are you trying to tell me that you don't just rinse off and call it a day, half the time?"

Tim snorted. "You got me."

"Yeah, well. I hate to be one of those demanding, naggy girlfriends," she said sarcastically, "but I'm sorry to tell you that washing regularly,_ with soap_, is kind of a requirement I have."

"You mind doing the washing?"

This time, it was Julie who snorted. "Whatever gets the job done," she said, pulling on his shoulder to get him to turn around and rinse his hair. Silence fell between them as she worked conditioner into his hair. Apparently satisfied that his hair was clean, she poured more shampoo into her hand, beginning to work it into her own hair. Tim nudged her hands aside, returning the favour by gently massaging her scalp.

"So," he said, after a moment, "girlfriend, huh?"

Julie froze, and Tim immediately felt the tension in her neck as she realised what she'd said. He grinned, glad that she couldn't see his face.

"Um," she said finally, turning around to rinse her hair herself. She avoided his eyes. "I meant, you know, uh..."

Tim tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes. She looked worried. "That make me your boyfriend?"

"The position's vacant and there haven't been many applicants," she blustered, her face red with the heat of the shower and, it seemed, a little embarrassment. He grinned at her, and then ended her agony, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

Julie pulled away, face flushed and lips swollen, her eyes a little hazy. "No funny business. We're supposed to be getting you clean."

"I'm actually feeling kinda dirty," Tim replied, unable to help himself. He was rewarded with a full-body blush and a roll of Julie's eyes as she squeezed some fruity-smelling body wash onto a blue bath pouf.

"Exfoliate," she said, putting it in his hand and gesturing pointedly at his arms.

Tim obeyed, watching as she worked conditioner into the long strands of her hair. She continued to blush under his gaze, the skin of her chest and stomach turning a dark pink. When she finished with the conditioner, they switched places again, and Julie held her hand out for the soapy pouf. Tim idly rinsed the suds off his body and tossed the pouf in the direction of the shower caddy Julie insisted on keeping in the shower. Only girls seemed to have enough stuff in the shower that they also needed something to organize it all.

"Hey," Julie complained, "some of us haven't washed yet."

"Too bad," Tim replied, pulling her close for a kiss and pushing her back gently against the tile wall so that the shower spray ran down his back.

"I thought I said no funny business," Julie griped as he kissed his way across her jaw and down her neck.

"I'm clean. Not my fault you can't keep up," Tim replied, grinning against her collarbone when she pinched his side playfully. He grasped her hips in his hands and hitched her up against the wall, supporting her weight with his body.

"I'm gonna slip!" Julie squeaked, alarmed, as her arms went around his neck and she braced a leg against the opposite tile wall.

"I gotcha." He pinned her hips against the wall and kissed her, sliding a hand down her belly to brush against her. She shivered hard at his touch, and he bit back a smile as he eased a finger inside her to discover that she was about as excited as he was.

"We don't have a condom," Julie pointed out, her voice muffled by the kisses she was pressing against his neck.

"Damn," he swore, continuing to stroke her as she began to rock her hips against his. "It's okay, we can just-"

"Oh god, who cares? I'm on the pill, and anyway, I haven't slept with anyone since I was with Nate, and that was months ago. Are you...?"

"I haven't been with anyone since before I went away," Tim supplied, somewhat rueful.

"Seriously? Tim! You could have told me that! No wonder you were beside yourself that first night. I didn't think I was going to be able to sit for a week, at least," she grumbled, her cranky words contradicted by the hand that slid down his torso and wrapped around his erection.

"Sorry," he said huskily, a thrill of pleasure sliding into his gut as her hand gently squeezed. "I'll make it up to you." He reached down to guide himself into her, rocking his hips up into hers. Julie shuddered and sighed, holding him tightly and gripping his hair in her hands.

"Consider it made up. But get on with it, before the hot water runs out."

Rolling his eyes and electing not to respond to the "get on with it" comment, Tim wrapped her thighs tightly around his hips and braced an arm against the slippery tile as he began to thrust. Balancing herself somewhat precariously, Julie responded in kind, meeting him with a sweet roll of her hips.

"I don't think I'm gonna last longer than the water," he said shakily, pushing her thighs wider to get a deeper angle as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses against her throat.

"Fine with me," she gasped. "I've been ready practically since the second you walked in the door."

"Yeah?" Tim glanced up at her, a little surprised at Julie almost talking dirty. Insinuating his hand between them to roll her clit between his fingers, he felt the water start to turn lukewarm against his back, and picked up his pace.

"Yeah," Julie responded. "God, Tim. You have no idea... For weeks now, I've just... Every time I looked at you..."

"Tell me," he said softly against her neck. "Quick – water's getting cool."

Tim felt her swallow as she strained against him, searching for the words. "I - oh, god. I wanted to kill you for walking around shirtless all the time. It was so unfair. Driving me crazy. Every time you fell asleep on the couch, I wanted to... You know."

"No, what?" he asked, smiling.

"Wake you up. With, um. My hands, and my... mouth, I guess."

Tim shuddered, the hesitant tone of her voice getting to him like nothing else. "Damn, Jules," he moaned, thrusting hard and circling her clit with his thumb. Her spine stiffened and she cried out, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she came. Her body held his, squeezing him, and he came with a muffled groan, gripping her hips hard in his hands as his whole body trembled.

They both went still, and Tim felt a bone-deep sated tiredness settle into him. It was all he could do to keep them both upright. Slowly, he eased her feet to the floor and pulled away, rinsing them both quickly as the water began to turn cold. Julie leaned against the tile wall, her knees wobbling visibly as her teeth chattered.

Tim shut off the shower and grabbed a towel for each of them. Julie hopped out of the cold shower, rubbing her limbs vigorously with her towel before grabbing a second one and disappearing from the steamy bathroom in an instant.

Tim towelled off and followed her, finding her in his bed trying to warm up, sitting cross-legged with a towel wrapped around her body. She was using another to dry her long hair. Tim climbed into bed next to her, chilled from the cold water.

They lounged in companionable silence for several minutes as Tim watched Julie weave her hair into two long braids. Eventually she finished, tossing her extra towel to the floor and snuggling down into the covers with a little sigh. She turned and looked at him.

"First year of college, I started having panic attacks," she said, apropos of nothing. "My courses were challenging, and I was really homesick, and it was harder than I thought it would be to make new friends. It all just started to become too much, and one day I was standing in line for lunch, and I couldn't make myself stop thinking about everything I needed to do that week, and how much I missed my friends and my family and Matt, and it was like there was this two-ton weight in the middle of my chest, dragging me down, and suddenly I was just crying and I couldn't make myself stop. I've never felt so hysterical in my life."

Tim waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, he glanced at her. "What happened?"

"The girl behind me in line put down her tray and picked up my stuff, and walked me to one of the student resource centres. I saw a counsellor, and it actually really helped." Julie paused, looking away. "I'm not saying it's the same as your nightmares, I'm just saying that maybe things don't have to stay this way for you."

Tim studied her for a moment, taking in the worried, prompting expression on her face, and then cleared his throat. "Probably got you thinking the worst, huh?"

Julie nodded, her eyes round as she looked at him with concern. It killed him to see the pain on her face, and he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair.

"Jules, it's not... It's not what you might be thinking. Did I get in fights? Yeah. I didn't go looking for 'em, but there are guys in there who pass their time that way. I caught my fair share of beatings. Mostly I kept to myself. Sometimes that's not enough. Saw a lotta things no one oughta see. But it wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

"Then what? What do you have nightmares about?"

"It's hard to explain."

Julie nodded. "I only want to know what you want to tell me. It's up to you, I just want to... be here. For you."

Tim eyed her for a long moment, and sighed again. "I dream about being trapped, closed in. The noise, and the lights. Never having anything to myself. The fear, I guess. Never been scared like that before. Not so it was constant, you know? It felt... Have you ever held your breath under water, just to see how long you could do it?"

Julie nodded.

"It's like that moment when you realise you need to breathe, right now, but you've sunk to the bottom, and you can't. That's what it felt like, for four years. That's what I dream about."

Julie's eyed brimmed with tears and she shook her head mutely before sitting up and pushing her way into his arms and hugging him tightly. "You're not underwater anymore, Tim. Please breathe. _Please_."

Her words hit him in the gut harder than any physical blow could. He brought his arms around her and hugged her back, holding her close.

"You're sweet to me," he said, breathing in the freshly-showered scent of her warm skin. He felt her laugh vibrate against his chest as she pulled back to look at him, keeping her arms looped around his neck.

"Not always. One day I won't be so nice, and you'll have to put up with me," she said, wry and honest as she smiled at him.

He ran his hands down her back, tugging gently on the end of one braid. "I feel like I sleepwalked through the last four years. I don't think I woke up until that day you showed up on my doorstep and told me to go see your dad."

Julie leaned in and kissed him softly before pulling away and resting her forehead against his. "I was sleepwalking, too. Maybe we woke each other up."

Tim regarded her, taking in the freckles scattered across her nose and the light brown of her eyes as she watched him. She blushed under his close observation, looking away. His heart felt light as air.

"So." He cleared his throat and pulled away, running his hands down her arms to hold her hands in his. "You wanna see where this goes?"

She smiled. "Yeah, I do."

Then she pressed her lips to his, and there was no need for either of them to say another word.


	7. Chapter 7

_Nor had I time to love, but since_

_Some industry must be,_

_The little toil of love, I thought,_

_Was large enough for me._

Emily Dickinson, "No Time to Hate"

Tim pulled into the dusty lot in front of Riggins' Rigs and parked alongside the garage. He greeted Kit Kat the longhorn steer as he walked by his pen, making his way into the front office. Billy had added a proper office and waiting room the year before, and the whole operation was starting to look much more professional than it had when he first bought the place. Tim spoke briefly with the young guy Billy had working reception, and then headed towards the main office. Through the dingy glass door, he could see Billy at his desk, frowning at the computer screen in front of him. Tim rapped on the glass and Billy glanced up, surprise registering on his face. He gestured for Tim to enter.

"Hey," he said gruffly, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey," Tim replied, closing the door behind him. An awkward silence fell, drawing itself out until Tim cleared his throat. "Looks like I owe you a thanks."

Billy merely blinked at him. "Huh?"

"Well, I woulda kicked your ass for telling Jules about the chop shop, but we kinda hooked up because of that, so, you know. Guess that worked out."

"Oh," Billy said, wide-eyed. "Good for you."

"Yeah. I should probably still kick your ass for that dumbass stunt you pulled, though. Scared Mindy and the kids pretty bad, Billy. What's going on?"

Billy glowered at him for a moment, defensive, before blowing out a frustrated sigh and running a hand through his hair. "I don't know."

"Look, I'm not in any position to lecture anybody. But you got yourself a wife who loves you, for some reason, and three kids who still think you're Superman. I didn't spend four years in a damn state prison so you could go to The Landing Strip and get so drunk you can barely stand, never mind drive your car."

Billy stared down at the floor, working his jaw. "You gonna hang that over my head for the rest of my life?"

Tim glared at him. "If I think you need it, you're goddamn right I will." Silence fell between them once again. "You remember what you said to me, the day you and Mindy got married?" Tim asked eventually.

"Yeah, I do."

"You said we gotta do better by our kids than mom and dad. You said _we_. I screwed that up, dropping out of college. Then everything with the chop shop... But I took the fall so you could walk away clean. So do better, Billy. Never mind me or Mindy or you. Do better for Stevie and Katie and Hay. Please."

Billy looked up at him, and his eyes were damp. "All right," he said. "I get it." He stepped around the desk and came towards him. For a brief second, Tim thought he might hit him, but instead Billy grabbed him into an awkward hug. "Don't scold me, damn it. I'm still your big brother," he said gruffly, his voice muffled against Tim's jacket. Tim grinned.

"Fair enough, long as you act like it, big brother," he replied.

Billy clapped him on the back and stepped back, clearing his throat. "So, you and Julie, huh?"

"Yeah," Tim replied, sitting on the edge of Billy's desk. "What do you think?"

"I think you just won the lottery, so you better not screw it up."

Tim smiled. "Yeah. Just seems like... I don't know. I like her, but it feels like bad timing."

"No such thing as good timing, Timmy. You like her, she likes you back. She wanna be with you?"

"She says she does, yeah. But what about down the road, you know?" He frowned. "I'm kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like when she realises she's dating an ex-con, and remembers that she's amazing and could do way better."

"Sounds like a dilemma to me. Let's go get a beer," Billy suggested.

Tim contemplated his brother for a moment, and then nodded. "All right. But just one, and not at The Landing Strip, all right?"

"You got it, little brother," Billy replied, grinning.

* * *

Julie was stretched out on the couch, reading a book, when Tim finally came home from work. She had eaten dinner already, and was starting to wonder where he was when she heard his truck outside.

"Hey," Tim greeted her, dropping his keys on the table.

"Hey," she replied, peering over the top of her book. Tim shrugged his jacket off, dropping it on the back of one of the chairs before wandering into the kitchen. He returned with an open beer in hand, and sat down at the other end of the couch, settling her feet in his lap.

"I talked to Billy," he said.

Julie laid her book on her stomach. "How'd that go?"

"Good," he replied. "Kinda talked things out. I think he's gonna be okay. We went for a drink and something to eat at Seven Senoritas. You ever been there?"

"Nope. Would I like it?"

"Sure, it's good times. And they do vegetarian Tex-Mex. I checked."

Julie smiled at him. "Good to know. We'll have to go sometime."

He nodded, taking another swig of his beer. "So, I keep forgetting to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"My probation's over. As of today, I'm officially a free man. A hundred percent."

Julie grinned at him. "Are you serious? Congratulations! That calls for a celebration."

"I agree. Tomorrow night's game night. You wanna be my date?"

Julie wrinkled her nose. "A football game? Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, I was thinking we could go out and get something to eat after. I dunno. For old time's sake."

"My parents will be there," Julie said delicately, her eyes anxiously searching his face. "Are you prepared for that?"

Tim nodded. "Are you?"

Julie looked away. It was a loaded question. She knew her parents weren't going to be happy about this. Did it matter? Did she care? She could pretend otherwise, but yes, she cared. Part of her still naturally sought their approval even as she balked at it. Another, more proud part of her, was mostly just annoyed that their concerns about her getting "too involved" with Tim had been well-founded.

Tim put down his beer and picked up her book, setting it aside. He stretched out on the couch, half on top of her, his forearms on either side of her. Julie giggled, squirming under his weight.

"Jules, this ain't the first time a girl's parents have been less than thrilled about me. It's fine."

"It's _not_ fine," Julie replied sincerely. She couldn't help but feel that this might be easier if her parents knew the whole truth of what happened with the chop shop. She sighed and said nothing, for she could guess how Tim would feel about telling her parents the truth.

Tim watched her silently, his eyes warm. He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, his thumb lingering against her cheekbone. Julie swallowed, a fierce stab of longing seizing her heart.

"Still. You wanna be my date to the game?"

"I'd love to go to the football game with you, Tim," she said, her voice unexpectedly hoarse.

A smile spread across his face, and it felt like stepping out into a warm, sunny day. Leaning up, Julie kissed him just to feel his smile right up close.

* * *

Football games at East Dillon High School had not changed much since Julie's senior year. The crowds had filled out and the team played like they knew which end they needed to run towards, but the game still had that hardscrabble atmosphere to it, something Julie realised with some surprise that she had missed.

The first few days of October brought with them a startling cold snap, and the night was cool enough that she and Tim both wore hoodies and jackets. They drove over to the school in relative silence, the pre-game radio show the only sound in the truck, and Julie couldn't help the thread of anxiety that wove through her as she contemplated seeing her parents. She had told her mother she would be at the game, but in a moment of cowardice, she had neglected to mention Tim.

As they made their way towards the field, she sincerely hoped everything wasn't about to blow up in her face. A big part of her wanted to grab Tim's hand and run back to their apartment and hide in his bedroom until the world ended. The part of her still clinging to reality stifled that urge.

"You want anything?" Tim asked as they passed the long line of people at the concession stand.

"I'm good, but if you want something, we can stop," Julie replied.

Tim shrugged, and they made their way up into the bleachers, eking out a small space to sit while they waited for the game to begin. "This good?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, I'm not picky," Julie said.

Tim frowned slightly, scratching his head. "Honestly, I have no idea what spots are good. I'm used to being down there on the field. I haven't actually watched all that many football games."

Julie grinned, pressing her hands between her thighs to warm them. "I never thought of it that way, but that's true."

Tim reached down, tugging one of Julie's hands into his. He held it for a moment, and then turned to look at her. "Your hands are freezing. You warm enough?"

"Yeah," Julie replied, over the noise of the crowd around them. "I'm just cold-blooded."

"Hm," Tim said, reaching for her other hand and wrapping them both in his own. "Good thing I'm hot-blooded."

Julie smiled and moved closer, leaning into his side.

The game began with the usual fanfare, and they stood to cheer loudly when the Lions ran out onto the field. Julie smiled at the sight of her father in his bright red windbreaker, pacing restlessly on the sidelines as the game got underway.

"Nice mowing job," Julie said, nodding at the field, which was in far better condition than it had been when she had attended East Dillon. Tim glanced at her, taking in her playful expression. He rolled his eyes.

"It's an art, that's for sure," he replied. "Thought about maybe mowing some words into it for the game, but I don't want to rock the boat, you know?"

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

He leaned closer, his hair tickling her cheek. "Something like 'Julie Taylor is a wildcat in the sack' – what do you think?"

"Hm. What kind of wildcat, though? I mean, you have to be specific in this town. I'm a Lion, not a Panther."

"Good thing I didn't mow that in, then. I woulda looked real stupid," Tim replied, grinning.

Julie laughed, and was about to reply when she felt her cell phone vibrate. She dug it out of her jacket pocket to find a text message from her mother: _Tried to find you before the game. Where are you sitting?_

She looked down the stands, and quickly spotted Tami and Gracie several rows in front of them, almost directly behind the Lions' bench. _Five rows back, over your left shoulder_, Julie responded, waving awkwardly when she saw Tami turn and scan the crowd. Tami waved back, nudging for Gracie to wave, too.

_I see you're not alone! Say hi to Tim for us. See you at half-time._ Tami's response simultaneously brought a smile to Julie's face and a knot of worry to her stomach. She turned and glanced at Tim, taking in his profile as he watched the game intently. She wished sincerely that the bond they had formed did not need to be tested by the real world. She did not want to endure it, and she had even less desire to watch Tim endure it. He didn't deserve it.

Sensing her gaze, Tim turned and gave her a bemused sort of look. "You okay?" he asked, leaning close to her.

"I'm fine," she replied softly, reaching once again for his hand and relishing the way his warm fingers wrapped certainly around her own small, cold hands.

* * *

The Lions won. Julie counted the game among a handful whose outcomes she actually cared about, simply because she hoped that the inevitable confrontation would be less unpleasant if her father was in a good mood to begin with.

She and her mother had spoken briefly during half-time, while Tim indulged Gracie in a piggyback ride and a bag of Sour Patch Kids. Julie provided Tami with a parent-friendly version of events of the last few weeks, explaining that she and Tim were dating.

Tami mercifully said very little except to grimly advise that she had better tell her father sooner rather than later, and that she and Tim were both welcome to join them at Buddy's for the after-party.

After the game, the four of them waited for her father to emerge while making small talk with each other about the Lions' victory. When he did, the grim expression on his face made it obvious to Julie that her mother had met him on the field and spoken to him before he even went into the locker room. He came to a stop in front of them, greeting Tami with a kiss, and ruffling Gracie's hair affectionately. He fixed Julie with a stern, humourless look and opened his mouth.

Before he could say a word, Julie jumped in. "Dad – can I talk to you for a second? Privately?"

Disgruntled, he nodded, and they walked several yards away to a spot relatively private from the others, and from the players and fans slowly dispersing.

"I don't like this," her father said simply, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know you're too smart to get involved with someone like Tim Riggins. When you were 15, 16, that might have been one thing, but you're 22 years old. You know better. What's going on?"

Frustrated, she resisted the urge to snap back at her father. Both of them were so hard-headed and stubborn; she had to find a way to get through to him, to make him understand. She opened and closed her mouth, struggling helplessly. There was only one way to make him understand.

"There's something you need to know. Tim doesn't want me to tell you, or anyone, really, but it's... It's not _fair_, because otherwise you won't understand, and I don't want it to be like this, with you always angry and disappointed with me, and with him, too," she said, swallowing as her voice became tearful.

"What is it?" Eric asked, his expression apprehensive.

"Tim wasn't the one responsible for the chop shop. It was Billy's idea. He set the whole thing up because he needed money for Mindy. She was pregnant and he couldn't afford all the hospital bills. Tim only found out by accident, and he helped, but he knew it was a bad idea and tried to get Billy to stop. When the police found out, Tim confessed to the whole thing so Billy wouldn't have to go to prison, so he could stay here and be a dad. That's what really happened. Billy told me so himself. Tim didn't want me to know; he would never want to say anything to anyone about it. He's still afraid of getting Billy into trouble. He's probably going to be furious with me that I told you, but I had to. I had to. Do you understand now?"

Her father stared at her, stricken into silence after this long speech. "I had no idea," he muttered finally, running a hand through his hair, which was already extremely dishevelled from the stress of the game.

"He's not a perfect person, and he's made mistakes, but Billy's the reason he went to prison, and I think it's important that you know that," Julie concluded.

Eric regarded her for a long moment, his eyes too keen for her comfort. "You can't rescue him."

"I know," Julie replied. "I don't want to. He doesn't even need it. He's... He's fine. He's gonna be okay. He's a good person, a really good person, he just..."

Eric nodded, although he still looked conflicted. "Come here," he said, pulling her into a tight hug. Julie buried her face in his chest. "Sorry I've been so hard on you, last few months. I'm still your dad. It's my job to worry about you, even when you're grown up and you don't need me or your mom anymore."

"I still need you," Julie muttered against his windbreaker. "Just not the same way. You know?"

"I know," he replied. He pulled back and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Can we come with you guys to Buddy's?" Julie asked. "It would mean a lot to me, and to Tim, and... Well, I miss you."

Eric grinned at her and pulled away, messing her hair up as she protested. "Of course you can come with us," he replied.

As they walked back over to where Tami, Tim and Gracie waited, Julie saw the uncertain look on Tim's face. She smiled reassuringly, her relief so profound that she could have sat down right there in the middle of that dusty parking lot and cried. Instead, she reached for Tim's hand, and promised her parents and Gracie that they would meet them at Buddy's.

* * *

It had been a long time since Tim could recall being so happy, not counting several recent instances involving Julie and very little clothing. Although things had been stilted at first, the game provided enough conversation to smooth the way. Soon Tim found that everyone who approached the table to congratulate Coach turned and spoke to him as well, as though he had abruptly ceased to be invisible. It wasn't really something Tim was going to bother getting upset about, but he appreciated the acidic smiles Julie sent every football fan who dared to stand there asking Tim what he was up to these days.

It helped, too, that she spent most of the evening resting her hand on his thigh, and shooting him silent smiles. Tim didn't think he'd ever felt so comforted by another person, and it astounded him that it was happening at all.

Eventually the crowd thinned and Gracie began to slump tiredly against the wall of their booth, and Tami announced that it was time they got going.

They were saying goodnight under the bright overhead lights in the parking lot when Coach caught his eye and jerked his head slightly, gesturing for Tim to follow him. He did, glancing back to find Julie watching. She smiled encouragingly, and turned to help her mother urge a sleepy Gracie into Coach's old Explorer.

Coach stood, his arms crossed over his chest, and regarded Tim severely. Tim wanted to squirm under the scrutiny, as he always had, but he stood firm. After a pause, Coach spoke. "I gather from Julie that the two of you are together."

Hesitant to speak, Tim simply nodded in response.

"I can't pretend I'm real pleased about it, but Julie's a grown woman, and I didn't much like her last boyfriend, either." He looked down, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "She told me what happened with the chop shop."

"Yes sir," Tim replied, frowning down at the pavement. He wished to hell everyone would just let it die, already. He appreciated that Julie wanted to defend him, but it had to stay a secret.

"I wish you woulda... I mean, hell, Riggins. You coulda come to me if you needed help."

Tim looked up, considering this. After a moment, he shrugged. "I didn't think I needed help. I thought we had it all worked out. By the time I realised we didn't, it was too late."

Coach nodded. "You're a good man, son. I knew that, and I want to apologise to you for doubting it."

"You didn't know," Tim replied gruffly. "Anyway, truth is, I coulda walked away any time. Billy never held a gun to my head."

"That's what makes you a good man, Riggins. You didn't walk away. None of us are perfect. You stood by that dumbass brother of yours, faced the consequences, and you sacrificed yourself to protect the people you love. I imagine that took great strength of character, great courage."

Tim swallowed the lump in his throat as Coach held out his hand. Tim reached and shook it.

"You be good to my daughter, you hear me? And you tell her to come home for dinner more often. Her mother and her sister miss her," Coach said, pulling him into a half-hug and clapping him on the back.

They walked back to where the Explorer and his Silverado were parked, a few spaces away from each other. Julie was waiting there, talking to her mother, and they parted with a hug. She and Tim got into his truck, and they bid her parents goodnight with a wave.

"How did it go?" Julie asked, a note of anxiety in her voice. "I mean, he didn't murder you, obviously, so that's a good start, but how did it go?"

"It went fine," Tim replied, pulling his eyes away from the road long enough to smile at her. "I think we're probably gonna have to go over there for dinner sometime this week."

Julie blew out a sigh of relief, followed by a breathless laugh. Tim reached across the seat and grabbed her hand from where it lay in her lap, and he didn't let her go until he pulled into his parking spot at their apartment.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Julie woke up in Tim's bed, opening her eyes to find him watching her from his pillow.

"Well, that's a creepy thing to wake up to," she said, her voice scratchy.

Tim smiled. "Sorry."

"No you're not."

"You get the funniest frown on your face when you're sleeping," he said, reaching out to brush a thumb against the space between her eyebrows. "If you're not careful, you'll get wrinkles."

Julie scowled. "Wrinkles? Are you kidding me? I'm 22 years old. I refuse to worry about wrinkles. Also, I'm naked and in bed with you, but I certainly don't have to stay that way!"

"Not my fault that you're cute when you're mad," Tim replied, shifting closer to her and kissing along the wing of her collarbone.

"Hmph," Julie replied, reaching up to drag her fingers against the stubble on his jaw. "So how does it feel, being a free man for real now?"

He didn't reply right away, contemplating her in silence instead. He pursed his lips and shrugged. "Good. A little weird, to be honest, but good."

Julie nodded, trying to think of the right thing to say. Finally she had to accept that she had no advice to give in this situation, and that her affection would have to be enough. She leaned up and kissed the side of his mouth. "I'm glad it's good," she said simply.

Smiling, Tim leaned down and caught her lips again.

* * *

Julie stared down at the open letter in her hands. She stood stock still in the living room, her mind reeling.

It was a letter from Austin Community College, offering her a place in their Human Services program.

She had applied to the program on a whim months earlier, when she first began working as a counsellor and one of the more senior counsellors suggested it. Given her lack of success with school applications, she had sent it off in the mail and promptly forgotten about it. Now it seemed they had an extra spot the following semester, and in reconsidering her application, had spoken with her supervisors at the clinic and become very encouraged by what they had learned of her progress there.

It was what Julie had waited for, what she had wanted so badly. Too bad it was many weeks too late.

Numbly, Julie put away the groceries she had picked up on her way home, trying desperately to figure out what she wanted to do. She had grown to love her job, and the program in Austin was ideal for continuing down that career path. She liked Austin and knew she would love living there, and it was close enough that she could still see her family regularly. Plus, Tyra had been living and working in Austin since she graduated from college, and the thought of reconnecting with her friend was attractive.

There was absolutely nothing preventing her from pursuing this opportunity. Nothing except Tim.

Julie was at a loss. What was she supposed to do? Their relationship was brand new; it would never survive the distance between Dillon and Austin. And Tim was a Dillon guy; she knew perfectly well he wouldn't want to leave.

But in her heart, she knew she couldn't forego an opportunity like this for the sake of a relationship which had barely taken its first steps. She couldn't stay in Dillon just for Tim – even if it made them both happy now and their relationship worked out, she knew that eventually it would be poisoned by resentment. She would always wonder what might have happened if she had gone. She didn't want it that way, and neither would Tim.

That was assuming their relationship had any real staying power at all, something Julie could by no means be certain of.

Standing forlorn in the living room, once again clutching the letter in her hand, Julie wondered miserably if it must always be this way, if she must always choose between a person and the possibility of making something meaningful out of her life.

She had no time to consider it further, for her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Tim's key in the lock as he came in the front door. In an instant she knew she would not be able to buy herself more time to decide, as her distress would be impossible to hide.

She was right. Tim took one look at her and frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Julie shook her head and went to him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face against his chest. He smelled like the cool, fresh autumn air, like grass clippings and sweat.

"Whoa, Jules," he said, his hand coming up to stroke her hair. "What is it?"

"I got a letter," she replied shakily, pulling back to look at him. She extracted herself from his embrace and handed it to him. "I applied to their program months ago when someone at the clinic recommended it, and a spot has opened up for next semester. They want me."

"Austin," he said, frowning down at the letter. "Congrats, Jules."

"No! Not congratulations! It's a great program and it's perfect for what I want to do, but Tim... I don't want to go. I won't go. I am absolutely not going," Julie insisted.

"Come on now, of course you're going," Tim replied, his voice stoic.

Julie stared wordlessly at his downturned head for several beats. He stared at the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. Finally, she could stand the silence no longer. "What do you think about Austin?"

"What about it?"

"I mean, what would you think about living there?"

"Living in Austin... With you?"

"Yeah," Julie nodded apprehensively. She was jumping the gun, big time, and it terrified her. She was completely unprepared for the conversation they were having.

Tim frowned, considering it. "Never really thought about living anywhere except Dillon," he remarked.

"Really? Not ever?"

"No, not really," he shrugged. "Always just figured I'd stick around here."

"Of course. It's your home, Billy and Mindy are here. I get it," Julie said, hoping the sinking of her heart did not show too plainly on her face. She had known, deep down, that this would happen eventually if she ever got an opportunity to leave town again.

"Hey," Tim said, taking a step towards her and pulling her into a hug. Julie pressed her face into his chest, taking a deep breath. "I'm not saying I won't go, I just... I never thought about going anywhere, is all. You think I could hack it, in Austin?"

Julie pulled back and looked up at him. "Yeah, I do. I think you can do whatever you want. I mean, you could find work at a garage, now that your probation is over, or you could work for a landscaping company, or a school, like here. Maybe you could find a job with the city or the county or something? I'm sure there are tons of things you could do."

Tim regarded her in silence for a long pause, and then cleared his throat. "Listen, I don't know where this is going, or where you're going, or where I'm going. All I know is I wanna do whatever I have to do so we can stick together. I wanna stay close to you. If you want me."

"I do," Julie said, biting her lip apprehensively. "I mean, I'm... Well, I think it's possible that I love you."

Tim looked at her incredulously for a moment before a smile began to spread across his face. In a moment, it was a full-on grin. He hugged her close, hooking his arms under hers and lifting her against him like she weighed next to nothing. Laughing, she held on as he walked her backwards, her back end finally hitting the kitchen counter when he stopped.

"I love you, Julie Taylor," he said, his eyes bright with happiness as he stood between her parted knees. Julie's chest constricted, and she couldn't decide whether she wanted to laugh or cry. "So..." he said, clearing his throat gruffly. "Austin, huh?"

"Yeah, Austin. What do you think, really?"

Tim nodded. "I think I could get along with Austin."

"Really? You really, seriously want to go? I'm not dragging you away from your hometown? I don't want to force you to leave if you don't want to, Tim."

"Jules, I love Dillon. I do," he said, pausing briefly as he weighed his words. "Everybody in Dillon knows who I am. I used to think that was the best thing you could ask for, but now, after everything that's happened, I think maybe it could be kinda good to go someplace where Riggins is just a name, not a reputation."

Julie frowned. "Are you sure? You can take time to think about this. We don't have to decide right this minute."

"I don't need time. Jules... You get that you were just about the only person in town who didn't act like I had the plague when I got out, don't you? You treated me the same as you did before. Long before Billy told you what happened. It didn't matter to you. If you think I wouldn't follow you to Austin, or to France or Timbuktu, you're crazy."

Julie laughed in relief. "It's so selfish, but I didn't want to go without you. You... You make me feel strong, you know? Like I'm capable. Like there's nothing I can't do."

"Funny. You make me feel the same way," he replied, leaning in to kiss her again. When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, pressing his forehead to hers. "You talk to Tyra lately?"

"No. Why?"

"Just wondering how she'd take the two of us sleeping on her couch while we look for a place in Austin."

Julie laughed. "I don't know. But I guess we're gonna find out. I don't know anyone else in Austin, do you?"

"No," Tim grinned.

"So I guess we're in for an adventure."

"Yeah, Jules. I guess we are."

Julie laughed again, and dropped her head to his shoulder, breathing in the earthy, familiar scent of him. His arms came up around her, and he hugged her close.

She sighed raggedly. Her heart felt full.


	8. Epilogue

"Hey babe, I'm home!"

Tim strode up the front steps of the house, stepping over the uneven board which wouldn't stop creaking, no matter how many times he pulled it off and hammered it back on. They had moved into this, their first house, six months ago, and there seemed to be an unending list of things in need of fixing. He crossed the small veranda and let himself in through the teal screen door. It banged as it closed behind him but Tim ignored it, his attention focussed on the scrabbling of claws on linoleum as Faulkner, their deaf rescued greyhound, came to greet him. Tim bent down and patted the dog's lean brindle sides as he panted happily, wagging his tail.

"You had your dinner yet, buddy?" Tim asked, standing up again and walking further into the house. Faulkner followed close at his heels. "Jules?"

"I'm out here!" Julie's voice came from the backyard. Tim walked through the little kitchen and out the screen door to the deck at the back of the house, which overlooked their small but pretty yard, where Julie attempted to grow figs and peppers, and numerous potted cactuses, with mixed results.

She was sitting in one of the deck chairs, her feet propped up on the railing before her and a glass of water at her side. A book was open in her lap, and, as always, she had a pen and a highlighter handy as she read. Tim smiled. Tim had never met anyone who enjoyed learning as much as Julie did. She wasn't even in school anymore, and she was still studying, still absorbing as much of the world as she possibly could. He appreciated it, even though he couldn't say the same for himself.

"My dad called," she said, not looking up from her book. "He wants to know if you watched those videos he sent you, of that new running back."

"Not yet," Tim admitted sheepishly, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before grabbing one of the other chairs and sitting down across from her. Idly, she removed her feet from the railing and dropped them in his lap.

"I figured," she smiled. "I told him that business is booming and you haven't had time."

"Thanks," Tim sighed. It wasn't a lie; Tim had started his own landscaping business only a year earlier, and it had quickly grown beyond their east Austin neighbourhood. It had grown so much, in fact, that he had hired two local high school kids to help him out for the summer. Now that September had arrived and they had gone back to school, Tim was struggling to meet all his commitments, and was on the hunt for someone permanent to help him out. "How was your day off?" he asked.

"Relaxing. Got some stuff done around the house, then Faulkner and I went for a nice long walk at the park. Didn't we, buddy?" Julie reached down to where the dog lay on the deck and gave his belly a scratch. He groaned happily and thumped his skinny tail.

Julie had finished her associate degree in less than two years, during which time they lived in a tiny apartment and both ended up working two jobs to scrape by. Tim recalled those exhausting months with a pained wince. They had nearly broken up twice, but they got through it somehow. Tim still really wasn't sure how. Pure stubbornness on both their parts probably had something to do with it.

Julie had since become a counsellor at the local teen drop-in centre, with an eye on eventually working in addictions counselling once she had enough experience under her belt.

"Hey, I have something for you," she said.

"Oh yeah?" Tim asked, tiredly stretching his arms behind his head as he watched Julie lift the book in her lap and pull something out from under it. A strand of blond hair fell across her cheek as she looked down, and Tim smiled.

"Here," she said, handing him something small and white and oblong. Tim squinted at it in the bright afternoon sunlight, and his throat tightened as he realised what it was. It was a pregnancy test. He turned it in his hand and peered at it more closely. There were two little blue lines in the screen. He looked over at Julie.

"I thought about wrapping it in a bow, or putting it in your coffee cup tomorrow morning, or maybe setting it on the table tonight, instead of your fork, but then I thought, you know, it's something I've technically peed on, so maybe not," Julie rambled, her face flushed.

"Are you... Seriously?" he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Yeah. I'm pregnant," she said, her expression excited, but anxious. "What do you think?"

Tim said nothing, unable to find any combination of words that could express how he felt. He pushed Julie's feet from his lap and knelt down to put his ear to her stomach. Julie laughed, the sound vibrating against his cheek.

"I don't really think there's anything to hear, yet," Julie said. "I'm only about eight weeks along, if that."

Tim pulled away, leaving a hand resting over her bellybutton. "If it's a boy, I wanna name him Waylon. Like Waylon Jennings."

Julie sputtered. "Are you kidding? No, absolutely not. Full veto is in effect, and I veto Waylon."

"You're the one who named the dog _Faulkner_," Tim replied. "Not sure your opinion can be trusted."

"Yes, but there's a bit of a difference between an old deaf greyhound and our firstborn," she said, laughing.

"Firstborn," he repeated, sticking out his bottom lip in contemplation. "I like the sound of that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it means there's gonna be more after this one. Little Waylon and Conway and Emmylou and Loretta and -"

"Ah!" Julie exclaimed, sliding off her chair to tackle him, straddling him right there in the middle of their sun-drenched deck. Faulkner got up and moved aside, giving a perturbed woof at their antics as he went. "You're officially banned from suggesting names."

"Bet your dad'll agree with me," Tim countered, grinning up at her.

"Bet he'll suggest a bunch of famous running backs to name our children after. Even the girls."

"You're right about that," Tim replied, his hands coming to rest on her hips. He turned serious. "Probably shouldn't roughhouse like that, Jules. You okay?"

Julie rolled her eyes heavenward. "It's like the size of a pea right now, Tim. It's safe in there, believe me."

"Still. Can't be too careful," he said, rolling them both up to standing before dropping an arm behind her knees and scooping her up in his arms.

"Are you kidding me? Really, Tim?"

"I'm gonna carry you two everywhere from now on."

"God help me," Julie moaned. "You won't be saying that in a few months when I'm as big as a house. And gassy. Don't forget gassy."

"Good point," he grimaced. Julie giggled and leaned her head against his shoulder, submitting to being carried into the living room, where he deposited her on the couch.

"I should have known you'd go all prehistoric about this," Julie observed.

Tim shrugged, not bothering to deny it. He walked into the kitchen, which was separated from the living and dining room by the breakfast bar. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Are you going to cook for me?" Julie gasped, a grin spreading across her face. "This is so great! I should be pregnant all the time. Are you going to do the laundry and clean, too?"

"I clean sometimes," Tim replied, scowling at her. Her smile merely widened. "I think you should start eating meat again, though. It's better for the baby."

"Thanks, Dr. Riggins. I bet that has nothing to do with the fact that you'd eat a plate of fried chicken and meatloaf for dinner every night if you could."

"Not at all," he replied, trying to keep a straight face and failing. Julie watched him from the couch, a smile on her face. They just regarded one another for a moment.

"Hey," Julie said, her voice soft and rough. "I love you."

Tim continued to stare at her, suddenly submerged in one of those surreal moments where he wondered if this was really happening, if he was actually this happy. Ignoring the urge to pinch himself, he walked back over to the couch and sat down. Julie immediately sat up, cuddling up to his side. He sighed and dropped a kiss on her head.

"Hey, I love you, too."

She sighed, and wrapped an arm around his chest. They fell quiet for several minutes, the only sound their steady breathing. Tim idly stroked the hair on the top of her head, and closed his eyes.

"You tell your parents yet?" he asked, after a long pause.

"No, of course not. I wanted to tell you first, once I was sure."

"They're gonna be so excited," he replied, grinning.

"I know. You'll have to help me figure out a good way to tell them. Over the phone seems wrong. Anyway, I want to wait. I want it to be our secret for a little while. You know?"

Tim nodded, considering this as the initial shock began to wear off and reality sunk in. They were going to be parents. He was going to be a father, someone's dad. He had no idea how you were supposed to do that. Tim gulped. "Hey, Jules?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you... Do you think I can do it? You know, be someone's dad? A good one?"

Julie pulled back to look at him. "I don't doubt for a single second that you are completely capable of being not only a good dad, but a great one. I think you'll be patient and kind and loving and protective. And fun, too. That's what I think."

Tim blinked at her and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He still didn't understand where Julie's faith in him came from, but he had long since stopped questioning it. A little crease formed between her eyebrows as she regarded him.

"Do you think I'll be a good mom?" she asked. "Sometimes I'm kind of... I don't know. So many of the young moms I know seem so mellow and _nice_. What if I'm not nice enough?"

"Are you kidding me? Look what you do. Practically your whole life revolves around looking out for other people. You've got this one in the bag."

Julie smiled, settling her cheek against his chest again. "Who would have guessed that getting rejected from grad school would turn out to be the best thing that could happen to me? I should write those colleges some thank you notes."

"I think I'm the one who should be thankful."

"Let's just call it a happy accident of fate, then," Julie suggested lightly.

"Sounds good to me, Jules. Sounds good to me."


End file.
